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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23278963">The Missing Librarians of New York City</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BreakerBroken/pseuds/BreakerBroken'>BreakerBroken</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Gargoyles (Cartoon)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate New York City, Conflict, Conspiracy, Disappearance, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, F/M, Library, Mystery, Other</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 09:33:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>163,155</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23278963</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BreakerBroken/pseuds/BreakerBroken</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>***MAIN STORY COMPLETED*** </p><p>While working a shift at the Reference Desk in the Main Branch of the New York Public Library, librarian Melissa Campbell meets NYPD Detective Elisa Maza. Melissa learns that the gargoyles are real, and that there is a conspiracy brewing in New York: every four years, one librarian goes missing, never to be heard from again.</p><p>Chapters with an asterisk (*) have sexual content. None contain major plot points, if you would prefer to skip!</p><p>Small scenes may be added randomly to the end of the work, but the main storyline is completed (ends by Chapter 54 with Epilogue notes in Chapter 55).</p><p>This work contains original characters and an original plot based in the world of the 90's cartoon show Gargoyles. In general it takes place before Avalon and there's plenty of stuff from the show that I don't include, either by accident or by choice. It's my first fanfic, because in the time of COVID-19 (March 2020), what else do I have to do but binge Gargoyles then write fan fiction about them? Hope you enjoy it! ~BreakerBroken (a librarian)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Brooklyn (Gargoyles)/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>102</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>65</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Melissa Campbell, a librarian in the NYPL, meets Detective Elisa Maza.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I took my time on the stairs up to the top floor of the Civic Center. Even the most athletic person would probably be winded by the time they reached the top, and I was definitely not the most athletic person. It also didn’t help that I was starving. I came straight here from the Main Branch of the New York Public Library after an all-day shift at the Reference Desk. I had gotten a few interesting questions that stood out, almost all about gargoyles. Where are they from? What are they? What are they for? I had pointed the patrons towards books about folklore, architecture, and histories of famous castles and churches. I was at the Civic Center now because of one of those patrons.</p><p>A young woman had approached the desk and asked about gargoyles. She had specifically asked about recent newspaper articles about them. We had chatted for a bit, and I mentioned this wasn’t the first time that day I had gotten questions about gargoyles. She had looked at me appraisingly for a moment. “Why do you think so many people have been asking about them?”</p><p>“I’ve heard that there’s been ‘sightings,’ but nothing concrete. Most of the sources are either eyewitnesses who only report seeing them at night, or newspaper articles and broadcasts from dicey sources that have proven incorrect in the past.”</p><p>“So you <em>don’t</em> think people have been seeing gargoyles in New York?”</p><p>I had shaken my head. “That’s not quite it, I think people are seeing <em>something</em>, but the eyewitness reports only have two descriptions in common across them: large, and flying. It’s not enough to confirm that they’re seeing gargoyles specifically. When I’m not working at the Reference Desk, I’m researching sources to pass on to several researchers, by their request. I have to confirm information in other trustworthy sources, or look up the history of the publications, and make judgement calls about whether I should pass them on. The constant search for reliable information has me a little ‘pre-programed’ to look for concrete evidence. ”</p><p>“Isn’t sorting through information and deciding to <em>not</em> include something the same as censorship? Librarians are supposed to be warriors against the restriction of information.”</p><p>“We’re warriors against censorship, but we’re also warriors against the spread of misinformation and for getting our patrons exactly the information they need. If I can identify that a source is related to what the patron is looking for, has verifiable information, but is extremely biased, I send it to them with a note that it’s biased. If a source is totally unrelated to what the researcher wants, or has incorrect information, then I don't send it on. I’m one of three research librarians, so hopefully between us we can track down the right information, check each other’s personal biases in source selection, and ultimately the researcher who requested those sources decides what to use and what gets thrown out. Of course, I'd love to make sure that they put our hard information sleuthing to good use, but after I pass it on it's out of my hands.”</p><p>“Sounds like you care a lot about the truth.”</p><p>“Yes!” I had laughed a little. “At least, as far as getting accurate information to our patrons is concerned. I’ve been fooled by misinformation and my own personal biases outside of work plenty of times, but when I’m in here,” I had gestured to the library around me, “I make sure it’s all about the people who walk through those doors.”</p><p>“So, Miss…” she had glanced at my name tag, “Campbell?”</p><p>“Please, call me Melissa.” The other librarians usually didn’t let patrons call them by only their first names, but I had always felt that offering my first name made patrons feel more comfortable. Most of them still called me Ms. Campbell out of respect.</p><p>“Melissa, how would you like to get your own eyewitness information about gargoyles?”</p><p>I had paused to consider where this was going. This wasn’t the first time that a patron had asked to meet outside of the library. It was generally considered unprofessional, like a doctor socializing with their patients outside of the hospital. But, while she had seemed friendly, it felt more like she was offering me information rather than just looking for a new friend. And that information could help me make more accurate judgements and suggestions.</p><p>She had reached into her jacket and produced a badge. “If it makes you feel more comfortable, I’m a detective with the NYPD. Name’s Elisa Maza. If you decide you want to learn more about the gargoyles firsthand, meet me at this address twenty minutes before sundown.” She had written the address on a business card and handed it to me.</p><p>“I’ll think about it, Detective Maza.”</p><p>“Call me Elisa. I hope to see you later, Melissa. You won’t be disappointed.” She had waved as she walked away from the Reference Desk.</p><p>Six hours later, I had finished my shift and headed straight for what turned out to be the Civic Center. The oddly beautiful gothic building housed City Hall, the 23rd precinct where Elisa worked, and a branch of the NYPL. The huge building was topped with a four-faced clock tower. I remembered reading that the clock had recently - and mysteriously - started working again.</p><p>Elisa had been waiting in the lobby, and together we started to climb the stairs. On the top floor, Elisa directed us into what looked like a janitor’s closet. We now paused in the janitor’s closet, surrounded by cleaning supplies. There was a hatch in the ceiling that I assumed we were going through. Elisa smiled, “How about we rest here a bit?”</p><p>“Sorry for being so winded…I don’t usually climb ten floors…in one go!”</p><p>“Don’t feel bad, I come up here almost every day so I’ve had plenty of time to get used to the climb. And next time we can use the elevator.” She laughed at my glare and waited until my face lost its flush. “Ready?”</p><p>I wiped some sweat from my forehead. Luckily it wasn’t too bad, and the air had cooled as the sun started to set. “Yes, I’m ready. Although I wish you’d tell me more about what’s waiting for us up there.”</p><p>“Look, I know we just met and you don’t really have any reason to trust me, but <em>trust me</em>.” She placed her hand on my shoulder, and the look in her eye was so steady that I couldn’t help but keep going.</p><p>She pulled down on the ceiling hatch’s handle, revealing ladder-like steps. We climbed the ladder-stairs and entered the top floor clocktower.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Updated September 3, 2020: I realized that I had C O M P L E T E L Y misrepresented what a research librarian does in the original version of this chapter (and probably in subsequent chapters)! D: I myself am NOT a research librarian, and I didn't realize until recently that I had mixed Research Librarian with Collection Management librarian together and totally misrepresented it!!! Forgive me, readers and fellow librarians!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Melissa finds out that gargoyles are real!</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The formatting is 'off' from the first chapter because I figured out how to copy and paste /correctly/ from my original document, sorry!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The clocktower’s mechanisms were open bare in the center of the large stone room. A wooden walkway framed the giant gears so each part could be reached for maintenance. The four walls were dominated by gigantic glass clock faces. The one in front of us rose above stone stairs, leading to a glass door fashioned from one of its panels.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I looked around, impressed. “This is amazing! But, what does this place have to do with gargoyles?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Elisa smiled, “You’ll see. Come out to the balcony, we can watch the sunset.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, but don’t mind me if I hang back near the wall. I’m…not a huge fan of heights…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No problem, we’ll come right back inside after sunset.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We started up the large stone stairs. I observed several hotplates, an industrial-sized fridge, and a single recliner with a television in front of it, and wondered just how much time Elisa spent here. It all looked very well lived-in, almost homey. And was that a pile of hay in the corner?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Elisa opened the glass door and walked out onto the stone balcony. I followed her, grateful it was wider than I had feared. I didn’t exactly hug the wall, but I stood fairly far back from the stone railing just the same. Large stone statues perched on squat pillars lining the railing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are these the gargoyles you wanted to show me? They’re very impressive.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They are impressive, but these aren’t quite the ones we’re here to see. Let’s just enjoy the sunset for a bit. Then you’ll get to see the gargoyles for yourself.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sun made the clouds look like scoops of orange and raspberry sherbet, shining peachy beams around the glass skyscrapers spread out in front of us.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s beautiful!” I sighed. “I don’t usually get to see sights like this unless I make it to the top of the Empire State Building.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“When was the last time you were there?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think it was on a field trip in tenth grade…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I guarantee you, this will top all the field trips you’ve ever been on </span>
  <em>
    <span>combined</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I nodded and turned to stare at the darkening sky. The last sliver of sun was still above the horizon when I finally noticed that Elisa wasn’t looking out at the city, but at the statues. As I looked towards the statue she was gazing at - the largest and most serious-looking gargoyle - the sun fully sunk below the horizon.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The statue started cracking. </span>
  <em>
    <span>All </span>
  </em>
  <span>of the statues started cracking!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s happening?!” A cold sweat broke over me, and my heart jumped into my throat. Elisa looked perfectly calm, her hands in her jacket pockets.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry, this happens every night,” she said over her shoulder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The cracks grew deeper and spread faster, chipping off to show bits of color underneath. I quickly looked at the other statues, all in the same state. The statues’ claws and tails and wings, previously stone, started to move. Suddenly, all at once, the statues reared up, shattering their thin stone veneers, stretching out and unleashing deafening roars.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I screamed, unable to tear my eyes away from the statues.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Once, when I was younger, I watched a planned demolition of a building. A huge crowd had gathered around, bringing lawn chairs and drinks, sitting behind a chain link fence. A large digital clock counted down the minutes until detonation. I had seen buildings destroyed on TV before, so I thought I had been prepared. But as the building buckled and collapsed, I screamed. It was very different to see the floors of the building slam down on one another and to hear the boom of the explosion in person. I knew what was going to happen, and that it was what was supposed to happen, but all I felt was fear.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The statues...gargoyles...finished their roars in yawns, shaking off the rest of the stone from their wings and shoulders, stretching like they just woke up from a good night’s rest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The gargoyles looked around, spotting Elisa.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Elisa!” A smaller green gargoyle exclaimed, jumping off its pedestal and crawling towards her excitedly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Lex! How’d you sleep?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Great!” The gargoyle stretched itself up, spreading its arms and showing webbed wings attached along its sides from its wrists to its knees. “Chamomile tea and honey before bed really helped me relax, thanks for the suggestion!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh, Elisa?” A red gargoyle pointed towards me. “Who’s your friend?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They all turned and stared at me. I couldn’t move.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Guys, this is Melissa. Melissa, meet the gargoyles.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I burst into tears.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Another time, I was moving my mom’s truck out from underneath some trees during a storm. The wind whipped through the leaves and rocked the large, heavy truck. I reversed towards our house to get under the open sky, then parked. As I looked out through the windshield, I watched a huge branch fall from the boughs and land heavily where the truck had been, 20 feet ahead. I screamed as the branch fell, then immediately began crying. I had no reason to be scared - I hadn’t even known I was in danger, and wasn’t in danger at that moment - but the tears came anyway. Tears of panic.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The gargoyles seemed confused and all stepped back from me.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Geez, Brooklyn, I knew you were ugly, but I didn’t know one look at your face could make a human cry!” The large mint-colored gargoyle slapped the red gargoyle - Brooklyn - roughly on the back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Knock it off, Broadway,” Brooklyn shot back, pushing the other gargoyle away. It looked back to me, its large brow bones lifting around deep-set black eyes, appearing worried. “Hey, it’s okay. We’re not going to hurt you.” It held its clawed hands up, taking a small step forward.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I read story after story, book after book, describing monstrous creatures who meant no harm but turned to violence in the face of humans’ fear-born cruelty. I read the stories and eventually told myself that if I ever found myself starring in one of these stories, </span>
  </em>
  <span>I </span>
  <em>
    <span>would be different, because </span>
  </em>
  <span>I </span>
  <em>
    <span>wouldn’t be afraid. I had imagined this scenario many times, with many monsters, and I would always be kind and gentle and different from other fairy tale protagonists. I never </span>
  </em>
  <span>actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>believed this would happen. Was I as prepared as I had imagined myself to be in my daydreams?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I tried to get myself under control, wiping my tears on the back of my sleeve and sniffling the snot away. My heart kept racing and my chin kept scrunching up, holding off more tears. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I want to be a different kind of protagonist</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I held my hand out, my arm shaking a little, my breath hitching and making me stutter. “S-sorry about that. I’m M-Melissa, I’ve nev-ver met a gargoyle before. Let alone f-five at once.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brooklyn, the red gargoyle, looked at my blotchy face, then cautiously reached out and shook my hand, his warm leather-like skin meeting my cold fingers. His handshake was firm, and his four-fingered hand engulfed mine. Where my nails were thin and short, his were intensely thick and curved, like an eagle’s talons. He positioned his talons so they wouldn’t dig into my skin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m Brooklyn,” he responded cautiously, like he was trying not to spook a scared doe. “You don’t have to be afraid of us.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We really aren’t as scary as we look, most of the time,” said the small green gargoyle.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And ye better make that six gargoyles, lass,” a tan gargoyle with a scar over one eye offered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I looked over to the tan gargoyle, then towards a squat cerulean creature I hadn’t noticed. It looked like the gargoyle-equivalent of a bulldog: massive build, taloned paws, fin-like ears, and pure white eyes. Three thick spines protruded from its wingless back. It hunched down, growling and baring its fanged teeth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I released Brooklyn’s hand and crouched down, the chilly autumn wind whipping at my dress and cardigan. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you at first.” I held out my hand towards the still-growling bruiser. “What’s your name?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It sniffed at my hand, then licked it with a pointed tongue and panted happily. He nuzzled into my palm like a puppy and I obliged him with some scratches under his jaw.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“His name is Bronx,” intoned the large lavender gargoyle, the one Elisa had been watching during sunset. He folded his massive wings around himself like a cape, hooking claw-like appendages together as a clasp. He laid his hand on his chest. “I am Goliath. This,” he motioned to the tan gargoyle, “is Hudson. And this is The Trio: This is Lexington and Broadway.” He motioned to the green and mint gargoyles, respectively. “ And you’ve already met Brooklyn. It is a pleasure to meet you, Melissa. A friend of Elisa’s is a friend of our clan.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The gargoyles transformed in front of my eyes. Not a physical transformation, like they had undergone when they were stone, but a transformation of how I saw them. It was like a gauzy curtain rising to reveal the real forms of previously hazy shapes. I wasn’t afraid of them. I could see they weren’t monsters, but people. Strangers who could think, talk, and feel.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s a p-pleasure to meet all-l of you, t-too.” As I spoke, I realized that I wasn’t stammering from holding back tears anymore, but because my teeth were chattering. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let’s head inside, lads, before these human lasses freeze to stone themselves,” said Hudson, noticing me shivering. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, don’t be worried about </span>
  <em>
    <span>us</span>
  </em>
  <span> freezing or anything,” Brooklyn commented, wrapping his wings around himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Unlike Elisa’s red leather jacket, my cardigan stood no chance against the wind that swirled around the balcony. I let Bronx lead the way, following him through the glass door back into the main room.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Three</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Melissa gets to know the gargoyles and promises to keep their secret.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Half an hour later, I had a hot mug of chamomile tea warming my hands. I sat on one of the many crates about the room  and observed the company around me. </p><p> </p><p>Elisa was about my height, athletic, with long dark hair, dark eyes, and cool, tan skin. She sat talking with Goliath, the largest gargoyle and the leader of their clan. He had light, lavender skin with dark purple under-wings, and towered over the other gargoyles. Thick dark hair started at a widow’s peak behind pronounced brow bones topped with two ridges on each side, and reached to the middle of his back. He had the most human-like face of the gargoyles, with chiseled cheekbones, a square jaw, and lips that hid both his upper and lower fangs, although his ears were large and pointed like everyone else’s. He was broad, heavily muscled, and had a deep, commanding voice, with a presence to match.</p><p> </p><p>Hudson, the tan gargoyle, sat in the recliner flipping through TV channels. Hudson was the eldest of the clan, with long white hair and a beard. Lower fangs overlapped his upper lip, and ridges starting at his brows trailed backwards along his forehead to his hairline. He was blind in his yellow left eye, a dark scar cutting across it. The underside of his wings were ocher, and he was fully clothed, wearing a breastplate big enough to accommodate his large belly and leggings under his kilt. He was also the only gargoyle who carried a weapon - a curved dagger - and spoke with a Scottish brogue.</p><p> </p><p>Bronx lounged on the floor next to Hudson’s recliner, resting his head on his crossed front paws. His back, head, and sides of his legs were a dark blue, with a light blue belly. His ears were like large fins, reaching from just under his two horns on his brow down to his jaw, and like Hudson his two lower fangs poked up from his bottom lip. He couldn’t speak or fly like the more humanoid gargoyles could. He seemed more like their hound, still a member of their clan but more bestial than the others.</p><p> </p><p>The other three gargoyles, who Goliath had referred to as The Trio, sat on other crates near mine, completing the impromptu living room. Broadway was the largest of the three, and while he was technically muscular, he had the physique of a sumo wrestler. He was a minty-blue color, with green under-wings. Three ridges lined the top of his head like a small mohawk, and, like Bronx, he had large, fin-like ears. His lower fangs also stuck out, and his brows protruded like Goliath’s. But where Goliath was more subdued and stoic, Broadway was goofy and jovial. He had cooked everyone, including Elisa and I, a huge breakfast as soon as we went inside, which I had gratefully scarfed down, to his delight. He asked me what movies and shows I watched, what restaurants I liked, and had made me the tea I now sipped. It was hard to imagine him ever being as scary as he had been in stone.</p><p> </p><p>Lexington was the smallest gargoyle. He was olive green, with a ridgeless, round head, and a slim, wiry frame. His large brow bones ended in upward points, mirroring his pointed ears. His bottom fangs protruded as well, but the most distinguishing thing about him was his wings. Instead of having wings mounted on his back, he had webbing running along the sides of his body. Unlike my first observation, his webbing had an opening between the bottom of his ribs and the tops of his thighs, which allowed him to wear a kilt like the other gargoyles. The backs of his wings were dark green, while the under-wings were light green. A pair of long appendages sprung from the bottoms of his shoulder blades, making his wings sturdier like the crossbeam of a classic kite. He was obsessed with technology, asking about the computers we had in the library for patrons to use. He had a higher voice than the others, and his eagerness and enthusiasm were hard to miss in his large, dark eyes.</p><p> </p><p>Brooklyn was brick-red, with burgundy under-wings. He was taller than Lexington but shorter than Broadway, and had a lean build, like a swimmer. While all the gargoyles, save Lexington, had claw-like tips at the peak of their wings, Brooklyn’s looked like a second pair of three-fingered hands, although he didn’t seem to use them. Two long horns curved back from just behind his brow ridges, helping his large ears frame his mane of white hair. It was thicker than Goliath’s and fell wild down his back to a point, above his kilt. Unlike any of the other gargoyles, his face was shaped like a beak. His upper and lower jaws formed a beak that extended outward from under his smaller nose, but unlike a bird’s beak it was somewhat flexible, perhaps cartilaginous, like a human's nose. He could smile, frown, and form regular sounds with what I thought of as his lips, but the rest of his beak was less movable. His brow ridges were also incredibly flexible, allowing his eyes to express the range of emotions that a more human-like face would have shown more easily. He had a medium voice and a love of one-liners and sarcasm. It seemed like he wanted to come off as a ‘tough guy,’ but on the balcony I had seen that he was more gentle than he looked or acted.</p><p> </p><p>Most of the humanoid gargoyles had similar ears, and they all had tails and dark eyes. They had dark kilts secured with wide leather belts. Unlike human kilts, they seemed to have a layer sewn together underneath, like the inner lining of running shorts. The kilts parted in the back to make room for their tails, ironically looking like tuxedo coattails, while the front came down to a long point around their knees, leaving most of their legs bare. The outside of their wings were dark while their talons were the same color as their skin, blending in with their hands and feet. When they stood up, they walked around on just the tip-toes of enormous feet that ended in one humongous talon on each heel. Brooklyn and Lexington seemed to prefer crouching, while the others often stood up fully.</p><p> </p><p>They spoke English, they had originally come from Scotland (although only Hudson sounded like a Scotsman), they had likes and dislikes and beliefs and emotions. They squabbled with each other, joked around, and made plans for what they were going to do for the night. The gargoyles weren’t monsters, but <em> people </em>.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, Melissa?”</p><p> </p><p>I shook out of my observations and turned to Lexington. “Sorry, I spaced out a little. What was the question?”</p><p> </p><p>“What do you think of us?”</p><p> </p><p>The whole room was silent except for the TV in the background, waiting for my answer.</p><p> </p><p>“I think it’s fair to say that I was scared of you guys at first. One minute you were statues, the next minute you were living, breathing...um...monsters.” I said it quietly, my face tinted red with shame, but it was the truth. “You looked so different from me, I just automatically thought you were monsters.”</p><p> </p><p>The gargoyles all sighed and frowned. “That’s pretty much the standard reaction, “ Broadway said, shrugging and shaking his head. I looked down into my mug.</p><p> </p><p>“I wish my reaction had been different.”</p><p> </p><p>“To be fair,” Elisa interrupted,”I didn’t really prepare you for their transformation. I probably should have told you what to expect.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, it would have been great if you had been more specific and less cryptic,” I laughed, “but I’m really glad you brought me up here.”</p><p> </p><p>“Wait, you’re glad I brought you up here and scared you to tears?” She was teasing me, setting the gargoyles at ease. Elisa was their friend, and they trusted her judgement. If she liked me, then the gargoyles might like me, too.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes! I mean, I would have rather skipped the whole ‘bursting into tears’ thing, but once I stopped being scared, I realized that you were all <em> people </em>, not monsters. I’m really glad I came here and got to meet all of you.”</p><p> </p><p>Goliath and Elisa shared a look. Goliath turned and asked, “Can you tell us when exactly we became people to you?”</p><p> </p><p>I held up a finger, jumping into my librarian voice. “I never said you ‘became people to me.’ You <em> are </em> people. You think, you converse, you laugh, you worry, you care about each other. You are already people, no matter what <em> I </em> thought when I first saw you.” I sat up straight, staring Goliath in the eye as if I was behind the Reference Desk answering a patron’s question. “My <em> perception </em> of you is what changed. The assumptions I made about you were based only on your appearances and actions, and were guaranteed to be inaccurate because I had an extremely limited amount of information. My own biases - my fears - took the limited information that I had and shaped it into my first view of you in a matter of seconds, which ended up being as monsters. I’m happy to say that I was, of course, completely wrong.” I looked around the room at each of the gargoyles with a warm smile, which was returned, to my relief.</p><p> </p><p>“Uh...well, that’s great...I think...but what did <em> we </em> do that made you see us ‘as people’ <em> after </em> you were scared?” Brooklyn asked.</p><p> </p><p>“You shook my hand, Brooklyn,” I answered. </p><p> </p><p>“Wait, <em> me </em>?” He looked confused but pleasantly surprised.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.” I shifted on my crate to turn towards him. “I think Broadway’s joke may have also helped, but I fully realized that everything was going to be okay when our hands touched.”</p><p> </p><p>Broadway shot a satisfied smile over to Brooklyn, who glared at him before turning back towards me. “But why would a handshake change the way you saw us?”</p><p> </p><p>I shrugged my shoulders. “I’m honestly not sure. Maybe the handshake was just the catalyst.”</p><p> </p><p>“Catalyst?” Lexington asked. “Like in chemical reactions?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes. Elisa’s calm attitude, Broadway’s joke, and especially Brooklyn trying to reassure me, all of those came together like puzzle pieces to form a better picture of who you all were in my perception, and the handshake literally sealed the deal.” Brooklyn looked pleased with himself. </p><p> </p><p>“Interesting. Brooklyn’s attempts to approach strangers have always backfired in the past,” mused Goliath.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Broadway crowed, “usually it ends with them running away from him, screaming!” Brooklyn stopped looking quite as pleased.</p><p> </p><p>“I also read a lot of stories when I was younger about beings who appeared like monsters but were actually kinder and braver than the humans around them, so those might have prepared me a little bit too.”</p><p> </p><p>Hudson rose from the recliner and came to stand with the group. “Which stories, lass?”</p><p> </p><p>I was about to answer when Lexington spoke up. “Sorry to interrupt, guys, but isn’t it time to go on patrol?”</p><p> </p><p>The other gargoyles looked at each other and nodded. “Apologies, Melissa,” Goliath said, turning towards the glass clock face door, “we have a city to protect.”</p><p> </p><p>I watched all the gargoyles except Hudson and Bronx head outside. Elisa stood up and stretched. “It’s pretty late for us humans, too. Maybe you’ll come back tomorrow night?”</p><p> </p><p>“I would love to!” I set my mug down in the kitchen-like corner of the room, unsure of the location of the sink, and turned to Hudson. “I could bring a list of the stories I mentioned, and maybe even check some of the books of fairytales and folklore out from work and from the Civic Center Branch downstairs. Would that be okay?”</p><p> </p><p>Hudson hummed. “I’m not the best at reading, but I think we’d all like to see what stories made you less afraid of us.”</p><p> </p><p>“That would be wonderful!” Book recommendations were my absolute favorite part about being a librarian. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow night!”</p><p> </p><p>As Elisa and I walked downstairs through the Center, I felt full of frenetic energy. I had been scared witless then filled with wonder, sending my mind reeling. Before we parted ways on the sidewalk, Elisa stopped me with a hand on my arm.</p><p> </p><p>“Melissa, you know you can’t tell anyone else about this, right?” I could tell from the look on her face that she was dead serious. “I’ve trusted you with this, but you <em> have </em> to keep it a secret.”</p><p> </p><p>“No problem, Elisa,” I said with a smile. “It’s librarian-patron confidentiality!”</p><p> </p><p>“I mean it, Melissa. Please don’t tell anyone.”</p><p> </p><p>Some of my energy fizzled away. I nodded my head solemnly. “Their secret is safe with me.”</p><p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Four</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Melissa's coworkers figure out that something's different about her (Pants. It's that she's wearing pants.), and Melissa hears about some missing librarians.</p>
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    <p>The next day, between verifying sources I was evaluating for the library, I wrote up a list of stories and pulled anthologies to bring with me that night. The energy that had burned in me last night kept me up later than I would have liked, making me groggy when I woke up. Working on the story list - and more than a little caffeine - had brought back the manic energy from yesterday. Every time I looked at the clock, what felt like an hour had only been a few minutes. My extra energy made me zip through my work, hoping that the more I got through, the faster time would go. I was anxious and excited and impatient. I couldn’t wait to get off of work and get back to the clocktower.</p><p> </p><p>My fellow librarians noticed something was different immediately.</p><p> </p><p>“Melissa, are you wearing <em> pants </em>?” Jack, one of the other research librarians, asked in mock-horror. He had arrived late, like he normally did, but walked in with a bag full of breakfast sandwiches.</p><p> </p><p>I looked down at the single pair of work pants that I owned. “Yes? Why, what’s wrong?”</p><p> </p><p>“Say it isn’t so!” He melodramatically smacked both his hands to his face. “<em> Our </em> Melissa? In <em> pants </em> ? At <em> work </em> ? By <em> choice </em>?!”</p><p> </p><p>I rolled my eyes and held out my hand for a sandwich. “I know it’s not my typical ‘work attire,’ but just because I usually wear dresses doesn’t mean I don’t like wearing pants to work.”</p><p> </p><p>Clara looked over from her research table. “I thought you didn’t like work pants? I remember you said they ‘never fit you correctly?’”</p><p> </p><p>I sighed. “I just don’t like the way work pants look in general, so I only have one pair. Plus, it’s much easier to throw on a dress in the morning than to take the time to match a top and pants. I’d much rather be wearing jeans, but, sadly, jeans aren’t appropriate for work.”</p><p> </p><p>“Not <em> yet </em> , but I’m working on it!” Jack loved pushing the rules as much as he could. He wore his hair at the maximum length allowed in the employee handbook, and had even altered a pair of jeans to make them ‘stealthily appropriate’ by removing the back patch pockets and dying them black. “But that doesn’t explain why you’re wearing pants <em> today </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“It also doesn’t explain why you’re so worked up,” Clara noted. “You’ve been speeding through your work and running back to the stacks to grab book after book. You’re a fast worker, but not usually <em> this </em> fast.”</p><p> </p><p>They both turned and stared at me. “<em> Spill it </em>,” commanded Jack, holding my breakfast sandwich hostage.</p><p> </p><p>I sighed and pushed up the sleeves of my thick cream-colored sweater. “I’m guessing you guys won’t just accept ‘I felt like it,’ as an answer?” They both shook their heads. “Fine. I’m meeting up with some new friends tonight after work. The building they live in has a balcony that they like hanging out on, and it’s just too chilly to wear a dress in the autumn wind.”</p><p> </p><p>It was close enough to the truth.</p><p> </p><p>“New friends? When did you make new friends? Where did you meet them?” Jack asked, much too curiously, while handing me the rapidly cooling biscuit, egg, and cheese sandwich.</p><p> </p><p>I had to figure out a way that they would let this drop without exposing the gargoyles. I had to keep their secret, like Elisa had asked. Then, I had an idea. I bit into the sandwich and said casually, “I met them through a patron I met up with yesterday.”</p><p> </p><p>Jack let out a gasp like he had been slapped. Clara dropped the book she had been looking through on her desk with a loud thump.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, <em> Melissa </em> , I <em> knew </em> you had some rebel in you!” Jack was very clearly delighted to see that I had eschewed one of the rules in the employee handbook. “Now all we need to do is find you a good pair of punk boots and - ”</p><p> </p><p>“Are you <em> serious </em> ?! You met up with a patron outside of work <em> on PURPOSE </em> ?!” Clara rose to her feet and crossed to me, clutching my shoulders. “How many times have I told you <em> not </em> to do that?!” </p><p> </p><p>“Clara, calm down! You’ve never had to tell <em> me </em> that, but I’ve heard you say it to Jack at least twice a week. Why are you so freaked out?!” While it had worked well for Jack, I had severely miscalculated the effectiveness of my diversion on Clara.</p><p> </p><p>Clara gripped my shoulders even tighter, her nails digging into my skin through my thick sweater. “<em> Because I don’t want you to DIE </em>!” Jack and I both stared at her, shocked. </p><p> </p><p>Clara was an older Black woman who had lived in the city for most of her adult life. She was more reserved, but she passionately told cautionary tales about the dangers of being a woman in New York City, <em> especially </em> a woman of color. If I had been less aware, I would have thought she was being paranoid, but between the lines of her warnings, I could see that she had seen - and been through - truly terrible things. But this was more than one of her usual lectures. Clara was <em> scared </em>.</p><p> </p><p>“Uh, Clara? Maybe you’ve been evaluating too many crime sources?” Jack offered after a moment, disturbed by her outburst.</p><p> </p><p>“No, I <em> haven’t </em> .” She let go of my shoulders, and I briefly wondered if I would have bruises tomorrow. “Melissa, meeting up with patrons outside of work isn’t just inappropriate, it’s <em> dangerous </em> . You have no idea who a patron <em> really </em> is, or even <em> why </em> they want to get you to meet them! They could mug you, or kidnap you, or…” </p><p> </p><p>Jack jumped in again. “Clara, you’ve told us this stuff before. Okay, you’ve told <em> me </em> this stuff before, and Melissa’s overheard you lecture me, but you’ve never been this upset. What’s going on?!”</p><p> </p><p>She took a deep breath. “The administration has been trying to keep this quiet for a long time, but…”</p><p> </p><p>“...But?!”</p><p> </p><p>“Once every four years, a librarian working the Reference Desk goes missing. They vanish into thin air, and they’re never heard from again.”</p><p> </p><p>Jack and I both gasped. “Why haven’t we heard about this?!” Jack demanded.</p><p> </p><p>“Admin doesn’t want us getting scared off of Reference Desk duty, or off of talking to patrons, or off of…”</p><p> </p><p>“...being a librarian at the New York Public Library?” I finished for her. She nodded. “Do any of the missing librarians have anything in common?”</p><p> </p><p>“Other than the disappearances happening once every four years, the last thing anyone knows for certain is that the missing librarians all went to meet a patron after work one day, and were never seen again.”</p><p> </p><p>I sat down at my desk. “So the rule about staying away from patrons isn’t just for maintaining a professional working relationship or for our general safety. It’s so we don’t become the next victim of a serial kidnapper. I had no idea…”</p><p> </p><p>“Me either,” said Jack, sitting at his own desk with a frown on his face.</p><p> </p><p>“This year is the fourth year since the last disappearance,” Clara said sadly. “We don’t know anything about why those librarians disappeared, or who might have taken them, but it’s important to be cautious, now more than ever.”</p><p> </p><p>“Which means we need to watch our backs at the Reference Desk, in the stacks, <em> when we leave work </em>?!” Jack sat back, arms crossed in front of him. “It is completely irresponsible of the admins to keep this from us! They should have told us about these disappearances! It should be in the freaking job description!”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s why fraternizing with patrons outside of the library is prohibited in the employee handbook,” Clara sighed. We both jumped at the sound of Jack slamming his fist on top of his desk.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s <em> NOT </em> good enough! We’re all human, we all make mistakes, and sometimes one of those mistakes is breaking a rule in a handbook, and if we don’t know that the rule is there to stop us from getting ourselves kidnapped, or <em> killed </em>, how are we supposed to know to take it seriously?!” He was only a few years older than I was, and even though he was exuberant and rebellious, he was a good person and a great librarian. When his mood took a dark turn, though, it was hard for him back to his usual ‘Positive Mental Attitude’ state.</p><p> </p><p>I shook my head. “I think they expect us to take <em> all </em> the rules seriously. Regardless, they should have told us. It would have scared a lot of us, but it would have prepared us, too.” I looked at Clara. “I’m sorry I scared you. If I had known about the disappearances, I probably wouldn’t have gone to meet Elisa.” I had a sudden moment of inspiration. “Wait! The patron I went to meet is a detective in the NYPD, Elisa Maza.”</p><p> </p><p>Clara looked a little relieved. “Detective Maza has a good track record, according to the newspaper articles I’ve been cataloging. We can’t trust everyone in the NYPD, but she seems to be an honest cop.”</p><p> </p><p>“She and I are becoming friends, I hope, but maybe I could ask her about these librarian disappearances! I’ll be asking a huge favor from a new friend, but it could be worth it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Especially if we’re coming up on another disappearance,” Jack added. His outburst had ended in a fizzle, leaving him melancholic and worried.</p><p> </p><p>I nodded my head. “I’ll talk to her about it tonight. Clara, thank you for telling us.” I suspected that there was still more she knew and wasn’t telling us, but I decided to ask her more about it on another day.</p><p> </p><p>We eventually went back to our work, but my mind stayed on the disappearances. What happened to those other librarians?</p><p><br/>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Five</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A beef bone and a bag of books.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The three of us often got off of work at the same time, but we almost never left together. Usually one or more of us would stay to catch up on work, or rush home to eat dinner and spend time with family and friends. Today we all walked out together and stood on the sidewalk in the golden light of pre-sunset.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” Clara asked yet again. She had reclaimed her calm demeanor after diving back into work, but she had asked several times after our confrontation if I wouldn’t consider putting off meeting up with my ‘new friends’ until after talking with Elisa.</p><p> </p><p>I took her hand and squeezed it, an unfamiliar gesture for both of us. “I promise I’ll be okay, Clara. But if it makes you feel any better, I’m going to meet up with everyone at the Civic Center Branch. Here’s Detective Maza’s information, too.” I took a notecard out of my pocket and placed it in Clara’s hand. I had copied everything from Elisa’s business card onto the notecard during one of my breaks. “And you <em> both </em> have to promise me, <em> promise me </em>, that you won’t follow me.” I glanced between her and Jack. If anyone was going to follow me, it would have been Jack, but that didn’t mean Clara wouldn’t try.</p><p> </p><p>Clara looked at the notecard and nodded. “I won’t follow you, Melissa, but if you’re a no-call, no-show tomorrow, I will immediately call the police and start a search party for you. Is that a deal?”</p><p> </p><p>“Deal,” I agreed. “Jack? What about you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ugh, <em> fine </em> !” He threw his hands up in exaggerated frustration. “I <em> won’t </em> follow you to see who your new friends are and why you won’t let us meet them.”</p><p> </p><p>“I told you, they’re <em> new </em> friends, this will only be the second time I’ve ever met them! Yesterday, I wasn’t even sure that I was going to get invited back.”</p><p> </p><p>Jack cocked an eyebrow at that. “Why would anyone not invite our dear, sweet Melissa back?”</p><p> </p><p>“They’re just, um, very private. Plus, Elisa was the one who invited me yesterday, so technically I was her guest. Tonight is my first time going over there as a friend in my own right. Or, hopefully as a friend, that is.”</p><p> </p><p>Jack nodded but didn’t look any less skeptical. “Alright, I get it. You don’t want to ruin things before you even get added to the ‘Friends’ section of their rolodex. Fine, fine,” he held his hands up, shrugging.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s one way to think of it… Besides, I almost completely screwed it up last night. I need to make a better second-impression tonight.”</p><p> </p><p>“Melissa, it seems like you’re going through an awful lot of trouble to befriend these people. Are they worth the effort?” Clara asked, concerned. I smiled at her.</p><p> </p><p>“I think they are, but I guess we’ll see!”</p><p> </p><p>I arrived at the clocktower alone with just a few moments to spare before the sun completely set. I wanted to see the gargoyles transform again, now that I knew it wasn’t anything to be afraid of. I also wanted to do my best to get used to it if I was going to spend a lot of time with them, since it was a pretty regular occurrence from what Elisa told me. I tried not to think too hard about the fact that I was already planning to spend a lot of time here. </p><p> </p><p>Elisa must have been running late, because she wasn’t anywhere to be seen. I waited patiently on the stone balcony, still standing back from the ledge, and watched the gargoyles awaken.</p><p> </p><p>“Melissa!” shouted Broadway on seeing me. “You came back! Glad we didn’t scare you off yesterday!”</p><p> </p><p>“Aye, and it looks like you’ve brought the books ye promised,” Hudson said appreciatively.</p><p> </p><p>“It was a workout to haul them up here, but I think they’ll be worth it!” I happily held up the massive tote bag full of anthologies. Bronx jumped for the bag, trying to grab it with his teeth, and I had to yank it out of his way. “Bronx! Be patient!”</p><p> </p><p>“Patient for what? What else is in there, a Mack truck!?” asked Brooklyn, pointing to the bulging bag.</p><p> </p><p>I set the bag down and took out a large, wax paper-wrapped package. “I brought Bronx something for when he watches TV with Hudson.” Bronx came up and sniffed the package excitedly, barking and whining. “I was going to give it to you when we were inside, but I guess you can’t wait, huh?” I tore off the wax paper and revealed an enormous beef bone I had bought at a butcher’s shop on the way to the clocktower. “I wanted to get you something to say sorry, since I overlooked you last night. Being overlooked feels pretty awful. Forgive me?” I offered him the bone, which he snatched from my hand and held proudly, wagging his nubby tail.</p><p> </p><p>“I think your apology’s been accepted!” said Lexington as Bronx ran inside with his prize.</p><p> </p><p>Goliath looked around the balcony. “Is Elisa with you?”</p><p> </p><p>I shook my head. “She wasn’t here when I arrived. Maybe she got caught up at work?”</p><p> </p><p>“Perhaps,” Goliath hummed, unconvinced. His reaction made me worry. Was Elisa’s absence from their daily transformation unusual? Or was Goliath like Clara, worrying about danger that hadn’t yet arrived?</p><p> </p><p>“Let’s go inside and see if she came in late,” Lexington suggested.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, and I’ll make us some food! Maybe we’ll start with a light breakfast? How does French Toast sound?” Broadway’s stomach growled. “French Toast it is!” He patted his belly happily.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, come on! We had French Toast yesterday! What about some bacon?” Brooklyn pleaded.</p><p> </p><p>“Coming right up, ugly,” Broadway teased with a grin.</p><p> </p><p>Brooklyn growled and rolled his eyes. “Enough with the ‘ugly’ thing!” He waited until Broadway had turned away to grumble, “At least I don’t scarf down food like I’m eating for four.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, Brooklyn?” I waited until most of the other gargoyles were heading inside before stopping him.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah?” He was crouched in front of me, his hands on the cold stone balcony. I had to look down at him to meet his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“For the record, I don’t think you’re ugly.”</p><p> </p><p>“Aw man, why didn’t you say that when the guys were around? That would’ve saved me from more of the grief they’ve been giving me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t worry, I’ll let them know, too.” Looking down at him didn’t feel right, not for this conversation. I crouched down to join him.</p><p> </p><p>“Uh, what are you doing?” He glared at me, or maybe he was just confused? I was still getting used to reading his reactions.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m trying to get on the same level as you, so we can be face-to-face.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why didn’t you just ask me to stand up?” he asked, rising to his feet and putting his hands on his hips.</p><p> </p><p>I huffed and stood back up, embarrassed. “I thought it would have been weird to ask, I guess? Or maybe insulting? Or maybe it was insulting for me to crouch down... Ugh, this isn’t going like I wanted it to.”</p><p> </p><p>“What isn’t, what’s going on?”</p><p> </p><p>“My apology.”</p><p> </p><p>“But, Bronx already ran inside with the bone you gave him…”</p><p> </p><p>“I apologized to Bronx by giving him a beef bone because I figured he’d understand a peace offering more than words. But, I wanted to apologize to <em> you </em>, too.”</p><p> </p><p>“...did you bring <em> me </em> a beef bone?”</p><p> </p><p>“No! I thought I could just <em> say </em> my apology.” I slapped my hand to my forehead. This was already going terribly, <em> and </em> it was taking too long. I hadn’t wanted to make my apology to Brooklyn a big deal, but by now the other gargoyles should have noticed that we weren’t heading inside behind them.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay...uh, apology accepted?” </p><p> </p><p>“I haven’t even apologized yet!” I groaned. Everything was getting mixed up. He probably wanted to escape this conversation as much as I did, but I had to do this right.</p><p> </p><p>“Let me start over.” I put my hands on my hips, mirroring him, and took a deep breath. “Brooklyn, I want to apologize for last night. I was crying because I was scared, <em> not </em>because of you in particular. But because I cried, Broadway made that joke, and now it seems like it’s turned into a whole ‘thing.’ I’m sorry that the joke has kept going because of me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Now’s when I say ‘apology accepted,’ right?”</p><p> </p><p>“Only if you think it’s good enough to accept.”</p><p> </p><p>“You shouldn’t be sorry that you cried. You told us yesterday that you cried because you were scared, it’s not like you could have helped it. So, don’t worry about it.” He crouched back down, relaxing again. “The guys were just messing around with me, and in case you haven’t noticed,” he puffed up his chest and pointed to himself, “<em> I’m </em> the tough one. It’ll take more than some jokes to get me down. And it helped that you didn’t actually, you know, run away screaming. Apology <em> accepted </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>I sighed with relief. “Thank you.”</p><p> </p><p>As we both turned for the door, he leaned up to me and said, “By the way, I accept peace offerings, too. I prefer steaks, though. Bones are kinda hard to digest.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said with a smile. “Hopefully I won’t have to hand out more peace offerings any time soon.”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Six</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Melissa shows her books to the gargoyles, and the gargoyles realize that Elisa is missing! Melissa 'volunteers' to go on patrol with them.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I briefly mention the Korean and Japanese fox spirits, gumiho(or kumiho) and kitsune, respectively. It's extremely brief. If you'd like to know more about these spirits, I encourage you to look up stories about them! You /could/ visit your local library and see if they have any information. Just saying!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Elisa wasn’t there when Brooklyn and I finally made it inside, but only Goliath seemed worried. Hudson relieved me of my heavy tote and began setting books out on a table, quietly reading the titles aloud. Lexington and Goliath began looking through some of the books while Broadway cooked and Brooklyn ‘supervised’ him, snatching hot pieces of bacon as they came off of the frying pan. Bronx was laying on one of the landings of the large stone stairs, gnawing happily on his bone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Goliath motioned to the books spread out on the table. “This seems like a lot of reading for a young human to do...how long did it take you to read them all?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I haven’t read them all entirely! All of these books are collections of stories from around the world. Some of them are mythologies, others are folktales, and others are just fiction. Each book only contains a few of the stories I was thinking of. That’s why I had to bring so many!” I pulled the list I had made out of my pocket. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>These</span>
  </em>
  <span> are the specific stories. Some of them are specific tales, others are the names of legendary beings.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>I offered the list to Goliath, who took it and read over it, his hand on his chin. “</span><em><span>La Belle et la Bête</span></em><span> by Gabrielle-Suzanne Barbot de Villeneuve.</span> <em><span>The Great Silkie of Sule Skerry</span></em><span> - wait, I recognize that word.”</span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“As do I,” said Hudson. “Selkies are part of the Scottish lore, magic seals who can transform into humans by shedding their skins under a full moon.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Goliath continued. “Medusa &amp; Arachne, from Greek Mythology. Loki, from Norse Mythology.  Gu ....” Goliath stumbled over the word. “Guh-mi-ho?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>gumiho</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” I attempted to pronounce the Korean word as best as I could, which admittedly was not very well. “It’s a Korean fox spirit that transforms into a human. The next word, </span>
  <em>
    <span>kitsune</span>
  </em>
  <span>, is a similar spirit from Japan.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lexington shook his head. “This is interesting and all, but there’s a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot</span>
  </em>
  <span> of reading here! It’s going to be impossible to get through all of this tonight.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, even if we only read the stories listed here, it would take the entire night,” Goliath noted, tapping the list.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was so excited to bring books for you all that I guess I got carried away,” I said sheepishly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is there one a’ these stories that was more helpful than the others?” asked Hudson. “Might be better t’ start with that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They </span>
  <em>
    <span>all </span>
  </em>
  <span>helped me, but maybe the ‘most helpful’ one is the first story on the list, </span>
  <em>
    <span>La Belle et la Bête</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” I picked up the book of Villeneuve’s collected works and flipped to the bookmarked page. “It’s a fairy tale where a young woman is forced to live in a magical castle with a monstrous beast. The beast has magic and riches but is terrifying to look at. The girl eventually falls in love with the beast, and her love transforms him back into his original form, a human prince.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So the story that prepared you for meeting us is a love story?” asked Goliath. “Curious.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s not so much the ‘love story’ part that helped me. It was how the beast might have looked ugly, but he figured out a way to show that he wasn’t as scary as he looked. The beast may have been terrifying to look at, but he had a good heart and took action to show it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait, isn’t that the same story as that movie, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Beauty and the Beast</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Broadway called from across the room. “Is there music in it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Unfortunately there are no sing-alongs, although that would be pretty amazing,” I called back. “The Villeneue version is a lot more complex.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But, it’s basically the plot of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Beauty and the Beast?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Lexington reiterated.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Yes</span>
  </em>
  <span>, it’s the plot of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Beauty and the Beast</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” I grumbled. “The Villeneue version has way more flair and nuance.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why is this story more helpful than the others on that list?” Hudson asked, pointing to the book in my hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Most of the other stories feature shapeshifters, and most of the shapeshifters start off as animals and transform into humans temporarily. They also don’t always have the best intentions, to say the least. </span>
  <em>
    <span>La Belle et la Bête</span>
  </em>
  <span> at least portrays the beast as </span>
  <em>
    <span>looking</span>
  </em>
  <span> more monstrous than he </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually</span>
  </em>
  <span> was.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, a Disney movie helped you be less scared of gargoyles?” Brooklyn looked at me skeptically, biting into a piece of bacon.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A French fairy tale that was then made into a ‘Disney movie,’ </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> the other stories on that list, helped me </span>
  <em>
    <span>recover quickly</span>
  </em>
  <span> from being scared of gargoyles. I was still scared, remember?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll bet Brooklyn does,” Lexington said mischievously.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I raised my eyebrows. “I was scared of </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> of you. Brooklyn just happened to be the first one who noticed </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Come on, Melissa, admit it! Brooklyn’s ugly face made you cry!” Broadway called. I looked over to Brooklyn and saw him look away, eyes narrowed in annoyance. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He thinks I’m going to take the bait and join in on teasing him</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I realized. As much as I liked teasing my friends, I only wanted to tease them when they liked it, too.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Actually, Broadway, Brooklyn was kind of the hero yesterday.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The gargoyles sounded off in mock agreement until they realized I wasn’t joking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” said Lexington. I saw that I had everyone’s full and unbelieving attention, including Brooklyn.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He was the first gargoyle to approach me, even though I was scared out of my mind. Brooklyn took the lead and tried to calm me down, but he had no idea what my reaction would be. What if I had tried to attack him? Or Elisa? Or what if I had fallen off the balcony? There was no way he could have known it would work, but it did. Now I’m here, and I’m not scared anymore. I’d say that’s the result of some pretty heroic action.” I looked to Brooklyn and smiled, happy to see him smiling back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His smile changed to a satisfied grin as he stretched nonchalantly. “It wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> big of a deal. I just did what any gargoyle would have done.” He leaned forward with a smirk. “Any gargoyle with</span>
  <em>
    <span> guts</span>
  </em>
  <span>, that is.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“All right, lad, you’ve made your point. Don’t get cocky just because a human </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> run away from ye’ screaming this time,” Hudson growled. Brooklyn’s smirk quickly dropped into a scowl.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Everyone, that’s enough,” Goliath declared, ending the matter and leaving me unsure if I had helped Brooklyn or just made things more difficult for him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>So much for trying to not screw up, </span>
  </em>
  <span>I thought glumly. Maybe I would pick up a steak or six to bring with me tomorrow night, just in case.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I looked over to Goliath to apologize to </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>, wondering if I would end up apologizing to all the gargoyles by the end of the night, but I stopped when I saw the look on his face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Goliath? What’s wrong?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His face was dark with worry. “Elisa should have arrived here by now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She usually calls ahead if she’s going to be late, but we haven’t had any calls or messages on the clocktower phone” Lexington realized.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I turned back to Goliath. “Was she supposed to be here tonight?” Goliath’s wings sprung open, making me jump. “I mean, did she specifically </span>
  <em>
    <span>say</span>
  </em>
  <span> she was going to be here, or was it just implied?” The gargoyles looked at me incredulously. I couldn’t figure out why, until… “Guys, I met Elisa </span>
  <em>
    <span>yesterday</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I don’t know her well enough to - “</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You don’t know her at all,” Goliath interrupted. His voice had dropped to a deeper, louder tone, growling deep in his chest as he spoke. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He’s angry with me? Why?! </span>
  </em>
  <span>I realized that I had skipped straight to problem-solving instead of taking the time to see how worried he was about Elisa’s absence. It was a bad habit of mine, one that was hard to get rid of, especially in times of crisis. I decided to change my approach.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re right. I don’t know her, so I don’t know what she usually does, what her routine is, or what is or isn’t normal for her. But she only talked with me for about ten minutes before she invited me here to meet all of you.” I looked around the room nervously. I think they were all worried about Elisa, but worry sharpened their features and made them gaunt, jagged, and dark. Maybe I wasn’t completely over being scared of them. “I think that means she thinks I’m trustworthy. So tell me how I can </span>
  <em>
    <span>help</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Goliath stood still, keeping the whole room in suspense as he looked me over. Maybe he was trying to see what Elisa saw in me yesterday at the Reference Desk.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Very well.” I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding. “Hudson, you and Bronx stay here in case Elisa calls or shows up. Broadway, go to Elisa’s apartment and see what you can find. Try to find Detective Bluestone, too. I’ll go to Xanatos’ lair and see if he’s got her hidden away. Lexington, you go to the Labyrinth and talk with Talon’s clan. If Talon hasn’t seen her, ask him to help you look.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait, you want </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> to go see Talon?” Lexington asked, confused. “Why aren’t you sending Brooklyn to the Labyrinth?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because Brooklyn will be doing a sweep of the city with Melissa.” Goliath crossed his arms as if the matter was settled, but everyone else - myself included - was confused. “Melissa wants to help, but she’s admitted she doesn’t know Elisa like we do. She won’t know what to look for in the other locations. We need to look for clues, including anything unusual on the streets.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No problem, I’ll do anything I can to help,” I said with as much confidence as I could fake. My false confidence quickly disappeared once I thought about my task. “Um, actually there’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>one</span>
  </em>
  <span> problem: how exactly will I be going on patrol? All of you have wings, but I’m grounded.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You and Brooklyn can sort out the details. We’ve lost enough time as it is. Dawn is only 11 hours away.” Everyone else nodded and hurried out towards the balcony. I followed them, watching each of them jump off the clocktower and glide away in different directions until Brooklyn and I were the only ones left.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Seven</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Melissa goes on patrol with Brooklyn.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Are you ready?” Brooklyn asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Absolutely NOT!” I yelped.</p><p> </p><p>We stood on top of the balcony’s stone railing. Or rather, Brooklyn crouched on the stone railing while holding me, one arm hooked under my knees and the other around the middle of my back. I held on to his shoulders in a death grip, my eyes squeezed shut.</p><p> </p><p>“Come on! I’m Goliath’s second-in-command, if he trusts me, then you can trust me! You’re safe with me!”</p><p> </p><p>“Am I?! Because it looks like we’re about to <em> jump off the top of a BUILDING </em>!”</p><p> </p><p>“Whoa! Hey, it’s okay, you don’t have to be scared,” he said, trying to comfort me while perched over ten floors above the city sidewalk that I could be splattered across with one wrong move.</p><p> </p><p>“Saying that to a scared person works about as well as saying ‘calm down’ to an angry person!” I shot back, squeezing my eyes tighter.</p><p> </p><p>“Look, I won’t let anything happen to you. But you can stay here with Hudson and Bronx if you want. Goliath won’t mind, I promise.” The small part of me that wasn’t petrified was grateful that he continued to be so gentle with me.</p><p> </p><p>“I <em> have </em> to go out and help look for Elisa,” I said, more to myself than to him. I took a breath and opened one of my eyes very slightly. “Just <em> don’t drop me </em>, okay?!”</p><p> </p><p>“No guarantees!” he said cheerfully before diving head-first off the balcony, my scream echoing off glass buildings and swallowed up by the sounds of traffic below.</p><p> </p><p>The drop felt like racing down the giant hill of a rollercoaster, only to find out that you’re not buckled in, there isn’t a safety bar, and you’ve started falling out of the car. I felt like I couldn’t breathe, that no matter how much air went into my lungs it wasn’t enough. The night air was cold, whipping my face and making the tip of my nose go numb.</p><p> </p><p>Brooklyn spread his wings, leveling off into a steady glide. </p><p> </p><p>“You okay?” He somehow managed to smirk with the tone of his voice alone, clearly amused at my terror.</p><p> </p><p>“No, I’m <em> not, </em>” I said, catching my breath. I chanced a look down, seeing the city pass by underneath us, and quickly shut my eyes, tightening my grip. After about ten minutes of peaceful gliding, I tried opening my eyes again. Ten minutes after that, I was a little thrilled to float above everyone, unseen. It was a view of New York that I would only have gotten from a paragliding ride, which I would never have taken on my own.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, this part isn’t so bad.” I admired the view for a few moments more before getting back to business.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, are you ready to join the search party now?”</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, I don’t have wings, I needed time to adjust! So, what are we looking for?”</p><p> </p><p>“Anything worse than a mugging, but not as bad as a murder.”</p><p> </p><p>“This is New York, we’re going to see a <em> lot </em> of that!” We scanned the streets for a few minutes, looking up and down streets and alleys when I had an idea. “What does Elisa’s car look like?”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s a classic: Tri-Five Chevy, red body, white roof, great condition! Why?”</p><p> </p><p>“We should keep an eye out for her car, see if that gets us any leads.”</p><p> </p><p>“If we find her car, we might find her. Good thinking!” I felt ridiculously proud to have contributed to the search, at least a little.</p><p> </p><p>We scanned the city, looking for red cars and people in distress. While there were far too many of the second, we didn’t find any car matching the description of Elisa’s. As we looked, Brooklyn gilded around using the air currents that flowed between the buildings of the city. Every once in a while, we’d drop or rise suddenly, the abrupt changes in altitude making me gasp in surprise each time. He seemed amused, but didn’t try any stunts like our takeoff from the balcony.</p><p> </p><p>I asked him several times if he needed to take a break and land somewhere so he could set me down. I had originally opposed his plan to carry me, especially since we probably weighed the same. There had been more than a few times in the past where someone had tried to lift me, only to discover that while they were indeed as strong as they thought they were, I was far heavier than they expected. Jack had once tried to swing me around in a fit of joy after receiving a promotion, only to call out the next day because he pulled a back muscle. Now Brooklyn looked to be following in Jack’s footsteps, insisting he was fine even though I could tell he was getting tired.</p><p> </p><p>“Brooklyn, can we land somewhere for a second?”</p><p> </p><p>“I already told you I’m <em> fine </em>, I could keep flying for hours, no problem!” The determination in his voice had a slight edge to it.</p><p> </p><p>“I know, it’s just that <em> I </em> really need to stretch my legs! They’re both asleep!” I cautiously took one hand off of his shoulder and hit my leg with a fist. “I can barely feel them!”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, if you insist...” He glided towards a nearby rooftop, lightly flapping his wings to slow our descent. I tried to stand on my own as he set me down, but my legs felt like the physical manifestation of TV static, the pain making them give out from under me. Brooklyn’s arm was still around my back, and his other arm quickly hooked around my waist to stop me from completely falling on my seat. “Whoa, steady there! Man, you weren’t kidding about your legs being asleep!”</p><p> </p><p>I sucked air in through my teeth as the feeling slowly came back to them. “Ouuuuuuuch, ouch ouch ouch!” I held onto him, waiting for the ‘pins and needles’ feeling to pass. I looked down and saw his tail curved around my upper thighs, providing extra support. “Thanks for not letting me fall on <em> my </em> tail.”</p><p> </p><p>“I can tell you first hand that tail injuries are no joke!” It took a long time for the feeling to finally pass, with Brooklyn steadying me as I regained the use of my legs. “Think you can stand now?” I nodded, and we disentangled. I started stretching my legs as Brooklyn went to crouch on the edge of the roof and looked out. “We’ve been scouting for 3 hours, and still nothing,” he muttered, frustrated.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not ‘nothing,’” I said, realizing too late that I had yet again gone straight into problem-solving instead of just <em> listening </em>. “I mean, we know that she’s not just running around  the city, as far as we can tell.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, ‘as far as we can tell,’” Brooklyn said sourly, slumping his shoulders. I shook out my legs one more time and joined him, looking out over the roof’s edge at the city below.</p><p> </p><p>“If we can’t find her in the city at large, it means that she has to be somewhere <em> specific </em> . We might not know <em> where </em> , but it <em> does </em> narrow things down. And, we know she didn’t just lose track of time or get caught up in a case.”</p><p> </p><p>“I guess so,” he replied. He tilted his head, thinking. “She would have to either be out of town, or somewhere we can’t see her, like inside a building or something.”</p><p> </p><p>“And you guys said she would call if she was going to be late, so wherever she is, she can’t make phone calls. Either there isn’t a phone, or she’s not allowed to use one.”</p><p> </p><p>He shook his head, frustrated. “We should get back and see what the others found out. Hopefully they found more pieces for this jigsaw puzzle than we did.” He stood and stretched his arms and wings. “Ready for your second takeoff?”</p><p> </p><p>I groaned. “Okay, just maybe not a free fall like last time?”</p><p> </p><p>He smiled and reached his hand out. “We’ll try a different style.” I sighed, relieved. </p><p> </p><p>He lifted me, then jumped into the air, twisting so that we were falling head-first with the building behind us, facing the street below. He laughed as I screamed yet again.</p><p><br/>The echoes of “YOU ARE A <em> MANIAC </em>!” blended right in with the sounds of the city.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Eight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Melissa and the gargoyles put their heads together to figure out what they do and don't know, and Melissa meets Detective Matt Bluestone.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Even without winding around the city, it still took us an hour to make it back to the clocktower. We were the last to arrive, and from the looks on everyone else’s faces, they didn’t have good news.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So, what did you guys find out?” I asked.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Nothing!</span>
  </em>
  <span> We found </span>
  <em>
    <span>NOTHING!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Goliath reared back and roared in anguish.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Everyone stayed silent, despair weighing heavy on all of our shoulders. They didn’t have any idea what to do next.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I walked over to my bag and took out a notebook and a pencil, opening to a brand new page. I sat at the table, still strewn with books, and wrote out “What We Know” on the left page and labeled the right page “What We Don’t Know.” Then, I started writing, letting the despair in the room dissipate.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Melissa?” Broadway walked over. “Um, what are you writing?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m writing out notes about what we know to see what we still need to find out.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t see what good that’ll do us, lass.” Hudson sat down heavily in his armchair, patting Bronx sadly on the head.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Figuring out what we know and what we don’t know will show us how to find Elisa.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not following,” Broadway confessed, hand on his chin.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Think of it this way: say it’s dinner time-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s dinner time!” I glared at Broadway and tapped my pencil. “...Sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Say it’s dinner time, and you’re trying to figure out what everyone wants to eat. You ask if anyone knows what they want to eat, but nobody has an idea.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><span>“Well, </span><em><span>Broadway</span></em> <span>doesn’t know what that’s like,” Brooklyn teased, “but go on.”</span></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I groaned. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Okay</span>
  </em>
  <span>, so in this example, no one knows what they want to eat because they can’t decide what they’re in the mood for. </span>
  <em>
    <span>But</span>
  </em>
  <span>, if you change the question from ‘what are you in the mood for’ to ‘what are you </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> in the mood for,’ you can eliminate options until only a few are left, which makes the choice a lot easier.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So if I don’t know what I want to eat, but I know I don’t want to eat pizza, it would be easier to pick what I </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> want?” Broadway scratched his head. “I guess that makes sense.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I assume you’re not just talking about food, Melissa.” Goliath seemed a little less upset, but not by much.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“If we figure out what we know, we’ll see those gaps and write them in the ‘What We Don’t Know’ section. By writing out what we </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> know, we can see what questions we still need answers to, which should point us towards some new leads. At least, I think.” I added worriedly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s as good a plan as any,” Hudson said, looking just a little more hopeful.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I began to write out all of our notes. By the time everyone contributed their information, I had only filled the “What We Know” page halfway. Broadway found Elisa’s apartment pristine, with a full food dish for her cat Cagney. He also spoke with her fellow detective and partner, Matt Bluestone, who hadn’t seen her since this morning. Elisa hadn’t been to the Labyrinth in weeks, which wasn’t unusual, but neither Lexington nor Talon’s clan had found any trace of her when they went searching. Hudson hadn’t gotten any phone calls or messages, and he hadn’t seen anything on the news channels mentioning Elisa, which could be good or bad. Goliath had spoken with Xanatos and searched the castle with nothing to show for it, although he told me they never took Xanatos at his word. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s a really long story, I’ll fill you in later,” Brooklyn offered before relaying our findings to the rest of the group.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I stretched and yawned. It was 2 hours until dawn, which meant it was 3 hours until I had to be at work. “I’m sorry everyone, but I need to call it a night. I can go through these notes and start on the other page later today, but I’ve got to get some sleep.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I gathered up my books, leaving the story list, and waved goodbye to everyone. They looked slightly more hopeful than they had an hour ago, but they were still worried. I assumed they planned to search Manhattan the entire rest of the night until just a few moments before dawn. I imagined myself looking up and seeing the gargoyles floating on the wind above me, and it made me feel a little bit safer in the city. It was too bad no one else knew that we had guardian ‘angels’ literally hovering above us.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Goliath stopped me before I descended the ladder-stairs, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Thank you, Melissa. You’ve been a great help. I’m sorry I doubted you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I looked up into his chiseled lavender face, made tired by worry. “We’ll find her, Goliath. I’ll do everything I can to make sure that happens.” He nodded, then turned to join the others as they made their way onto the balcony.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I caught about an hour of sleep before my alarm woke me up. I had debated whether or not to call out of work before I went to bed, and despite my best effort to rally for work I decided to stay home. I called Clara and my supervisor to tell them I was going to be out. Clara asked a million questions, including “Is there someone with you who is keeping you against your will? Say ‘The flowers were lovely’ if there is!” I told her over and over that I just hadn’t gone to sleep yet and was literally sick and tired, and around the fifth time I repeated it she heard the exhaustion in my voice and believed that I was, at the very least, tired. My supervisor was understanding, and I fell asleep immediately after hanging up the phone.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When I woke up again, it was ten in the morning. I made some coffee and sat at my kitchen table in my pajamas and a bathrobe, tapping the notebook with my pencil. “So, what </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> we know?” I asked aloud.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A knock on the door stopped me from answering myself. When I opened the door, a tall man with red hair and blue eyes was standing in front of me. He produced a badge and introduced himself as Detective Matt Bluestone, Elisa Maza’s partner. “Broadway sent me,” he said with a wink.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As I waved him inside, I said “But Broadway doesn’t know where I live. I don’t think he even knows my last name...”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Which made looking you up </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> difficult, let me tell you! I had to use almost all of my detecting skills.” Detective Bluestone gave me a friendly smile. “In all seriousness, I had to look up employees of the public library system named Melissa, then find one nearest to your age and description.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I closed my bathrobe, suddenly feeling exposed despite being completely covered with sweatpants and a sweater. “I didn’t know that there were any files like that on us.” I turned to make him some coffee, grabbing the small jug of cream out of the refrigerator and setting it near the seat opposite of mine. “The sugar’s already on the table, if you take it. Please, have a seat.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you. And I’ll let you in on a secret, if it makes you feel better,” he said, sitting down and preparing his coffee. “The files I looked at were the public library employee list, which I cross-referenced with drivers’ license information files. I know your last name and your address, now, but I don’t know your tax information or your shoe size.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I rubbed my face with the palm of my hand, then tried to smooth back my hair. “I guess that’s a little better?” I took a deep drink of my coffee, regretting it once I realized the coffee was still hot. “I assume you’re here about Elisa?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” Detective Bluestone said, turning serious. “Broadway told me last night that she never showed up to the clocktower. He also said that I should come find you today if I didn’t hear anything from her or the gargoyles before sunrise.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Goliath sent us all out to try to look for her, then we met back at the clocktower to share information. It wasn’t a lot, but here’s what we have so far.” I slid the notebook over to him, turning it around and pointing at the pages with my pencil. “It’s not great, but it’s a start. I was going to look through the list of what we know to see where the gaps are.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“The gaps could show us where we need to head next,” he said thoughtfully.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Exactly! I had to try to explain that to the gargoyles last night. I’m glad you picked it up so fast.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Detective Bluestone looked up from the short list of notes. “You said that ‘Goliath sent us all out.’ Does that include you?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, I was a part of the search last night. I had to try to help somehow, especially since Elisa trusted me enough to let me in on the existence of gargoyles. I wanted to try to prove that her instinct about me was right.” My voice tapered off when I saw the sour look on Detective Bluestone’s face.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Lucky you. She waited weeks to tell me. I practically had to force her to tell me what was going on. When did you say you two met?” He looked at me like he was trying to read polygraph lines in my face.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We met yesterday. No, wait, two days ago.” I rubbed my face with my hand again. ”I only slept for a few hours last night, it doesn’t feel like a whole day passed. Two days ago, while I was working the Reference Desk at the Main Branch of the New York Public Library, at about this time in the morning. She asked for newspaper articles about the gargoyle sightings.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And based on your answer, she invited you to meet the gargoyles?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes. She asked if I cared about the truth, and I told her I’m one of the librarians who verifies information in our sources before we decide to add them to the collection. Finding the truth is the whole point of my job. It’s not just about finding the truth for </span>
  <em>
    <span>myself</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but finding it and making it easy to get to for the </span>
  <em>
    <span>patrons</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” I took another sip of coffee, cooler this time. “I guess Elisa thought that was a good enough answer to invite me to the clocktower.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“She must have,” Detective Bluestone said, turning back to the notes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“But you don’t?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He looked up. “To be honest, I’m hurt that she invited you so quickly. And maybe I’m just jealous, but I have a hard time believing that you caring about doing your job is really what got her to trust you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve got a point,” I said with a shrug. “I wish I could tell you why she trusted me to meet them. If we want to know,” I leaned over and tapped the notebook with my pencil again, “we’ll need to find her so we can ask.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Right.” I could tell he wasn’t ready to drop the subject.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Detective Bluestone, I know you don’t have any reason to believe me, but I want to find Elisa just as much as you do. You’re welcome to,” I searched for the right term, “put surveillance on me or whatever would make you comfortable, but we should focus on finding Elisa, and I think I can help.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He stared at me for a long moment before nodding. “I think we can skip the surveillance for now, but I’ll be keeping an eye on you. And just call me ‘Matt.’”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I reached my hand across the table. “It’s nice to meet you, Matt. I’m Melissa.” We shook hands, both in greeting and in a silent agreement to trust each other for the moment.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, Melissa. Let’s see what you’ve got here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Nine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Matt and Melissa discover a lead on Elisa's disappearance.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Matt poured over the notebook as I kept pouring coffee for us. There really wasn’t a lot to go on, but it was nice to have someone else to reason through ideas out loud.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, Xanatos is on the suspect list,” Matt said, writing in a smaller spiral-bound notebook that he pulled from his coat pocket, “but it’s not a strong lead.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And Elisa had been to her apartment recently, perhaps sometime that morning or afternoon depending on how quickly her cat eats,” I added, starting on my third cup of coffee.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It says here, ‘Labyrinth Clan/Talon haven’t seen her, tried looking.’ Did they tell you about the Labyrinth Clan?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Actually, no. They never explained it to me, but I think it’s a group of people, maybe more gargoyles? And ‘Talon’ seems to be an individual figure.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Matt looked up at me quickly, then back to the notebook with a small smirk. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Looks like he’s happy </span>
  </em>
  <span>he</span>
  <em>
    <span> knows something </span>
  </em>
  <span>I</span>
  <em>
    <span> don’t, </span>
  </em>
  <span>I thought. I poured him some more coffee. I didn’t mind being in the dark for a little while. I could ask questions once we found Elisa.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It looks like you’ve got information from all the gargoyles here. What about your part of the search?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What did you find out on your search?” He asked again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s written right there. We didn’t spot her car, or anyone in distress that looked to be her, or any situations that seemed to be kidnappings that would make us look into human trafficking rings. Although, that might be a good angle to consider.” I pulled the notebook back towards me and made a note on the ‘What We Don’t Know’ page.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I thought that was the note from Brooklyn’s sweep of the city?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes. Brooklyn and I swept the city.” For some reason Matt still looked confused.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How? It would be hard to keep up with someone flying if you were on foot.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I wasn’t on foot. Brooklyn carried me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Brooklyn</span>
  </em>
  <span>, </span>
  <em>
    <span>carried</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you?” His voice was filled with incredulity, emphasizing each part of my answer. It made me bristle and blush with anger.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes! Why is that so hard to believe?” I blushed harder when Matt burst out laughing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s not exactly the biggest or strongest gargoyle there! Goliath or Broadway, sure, maybe even Hudson, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>Brooklyn</span>
  </em>
  <span>?!” Matt was laughing so hard he had tears in his eyes. He wiped them away, then looked up and saw </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> tears. Hot, stinging tears blurred my vision and rolled down my cheeks while I felt my entire face turn red. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Probably as red as Brooklyn’s</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I thought bitterly. “Wait, I didn’t mean -”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t mean to imply that I was too heavy to carry and would be useless on a search?!” I tried to keep the anger and insecurity out of my voice, and failed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, I didn’t -” Matt tried to backpedal.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Forget it,” I spat. “This isn’t important. What’s important is figuring out the next lead.” I stood up to fill the coffee pot again, grateful I had a chance to turn away from him and wipe away the searing tears streaming down my face. I was embarrassed, and I was </span>
  <em>
    <span>pissed</span>
  </em>
  <span>, both things that made me turn red and cry. I liked to think I cried not because I was weak, but because I was strong enough to know that body slamming someone who was insulting me wasn’t the best choice of action, so really I was just crying from holding myself back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Matt sighed and rubbed his hand over his hair. “I really messed that up. I’m sorry.” I looked over my shoulder at him. “Brooklyn’s the fastest flyer out of all the gargoyles, and having him, um, slowed down by carrying a passenger, seems like a punishment for pissing Goliath off.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I looked down at the coffee pot, which was starting to brew. “I think </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> was the one who pissed off Goliath.” The gurgle of percolating coffee filled the small stretch of silence before I continued. “I didn’t know Brooklyn was the fastest. He probably could have searched a lot more of the city without carrying me. Maybe I </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> helpful yesterday, if I was just a lead weight.” I turned and leaned back on the counter, my head tilted back and resting on the upper cabinets. “I guess I </span>
  <em>
    <span>should</span>
  </em>
  <span> bring steaks tonight.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Steaks? Tonight? How do I get in on that action?” Matt perked up, his interest in dinner lightening the mood.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was going to bribe the gargoyles for forgiveness with some steaks, I can bring one for you tonight, too, if you’d like.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Forgiveness? What do you need forgiveness for?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“For whatever I did yesterday that pissed Goliath off enough to punish Brooklyn with carrying me around.” Matt shook his head and stood up, walking towards the coffee pot.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Look, I know Goliath, he’s not the kind of guy - gargoyle - to punish someone for no reason. He’s a good leader.” He looked at me, completely serious. “If he sent you with Brooklyn, he had a reason for doing so. He wouldn’t be petty enough to sabotage the search effort, not with Elisa on the line.” Matt took the coffee pot and went back to the table. “Who thought of looking for Elisa’s car?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I did,” I said, sitting back at the table.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“See? Goliath must have sent you with Brooklyn because you would think of things to look for that he wouldn’t.” Matt smiled, satisfied with his conclusion. I felt better about my role, and more than a little ridiculous for being so self-centered. I smiled too, hoping that he was right.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, Matt.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No problem,” he said, turning back to the notebook. “So, back to business! It’s time to fill out some of this ‘What We Don’t Know’ page.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I sat back in thought. “Well, we don’t know where Elisa’s car is. Brooklyn and I didn’t see it on the streets, and it wasn’t parked near her apartment or Broadway would have seen it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t see her car in the parking garage at work, either.” Matt wrote it down in the notebook. “We also don’t know if she was taken somewhere by force, or if she went somewhere willingly.” He added that to the page as well.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We don’t know if her disappearance is related to her police work, to the gargoyles, or to something else entirely.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We don’t know if she’s hurt, she could be in the hospital. Did anyone check with her mother or father?”</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think so, but we should definitely add that to our list.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Matt tapped on the notebook again. “I hate to say it, but I think we should look hard into the ‘human trafficking ring’ possibility.” He shook his head sadly. “Kidnappings and human trafficking have been skyrocketing recently. It’s been hard for the P.D. to keep up.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I nodded. “The sources that Jack has been verifying have followed that, too. Jack’s one of the other research librarians I work with,” I added. “But we should also think about kidnapping in general.” Clara’s face sprung to my mind as I had an idea. “The librarians!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What about them?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Clara, the other </span>
  <em>
    <span>other</span>
  </em>
  <span> research librarian, told Jack and I that librarians have been going missing for years and years! Every four years, one librarian from the Main Branch of the New York Public Library goes missing after a shift at the Reference Desk. No one has ever been able to get any leads except that each librarian was going to meet a patron the night they disappeared.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why haven’t I heard about this?!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>just</span>
  </em>
  <span> found out yesterday, and Clara didn’t mean to let the cat out of the bag.” I leaned forward, thoughts running through my head like the New York Marathon. “If the public library administration has been trying to keep it quiet, the police have probably tried to downplay it, too. It would be a disaster for the public to know that librarians were being targeted.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“More disastrous than the police or politicians being targeted?” Matt asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I tilted my head thoughtfully. “It’s more that librarians, who are highly trusted public servants that don’t have a part in the law and justice systems, aren’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>supposed</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be in danger at all. If we are, it’s supposed to be from a lone patron deciding to commit violence in a public institution and choosing a library, or a fast-moving fire,” I shuddered, thinking of the Los Angeles Public Library fire just a few years ago. “But as soon as people find out that specific </span>
  <em>
    <span>librarians</span>
  </em>
  <span> are being targeted, it’s going to make them suspicious of everyone who’s ever walked into a library. How could they trust anyone if one of the safest places the public has access to is ‘dangerous’ and the culprit’s motives are so unclear?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It would cause widespread paranoia and panic,” Matt concluded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Exactly.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, what does all of that mean for Elisa?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We both went silent, thinking and trying to connect the dots.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An idea came to me, one that made me break into a cold sweat and sent me into a panic.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Matt…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What if the person who’s been kidnapping librarians...went after Elisa?”</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Ten</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Melissa gets more information and help from her fellow librarians.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>They indulge in some whiskey in this chapter, for anyone who is uncomfortable with the mention of alcohol.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>We poured over our meager notes and talked through theory after theory, but it always came back to the missing librarians. Matt decided to head back to the precinct to dig into the missing persons cases, while I decided to head over to the Main Branch to try to get more out of Clara. We agreed to meet back at the clocktower half an hour before sunset so we could compare notes before the gargoyles awoke.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack and Clara looked up from their work when I walked into our office.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Melissa? I thought you called out sick?” Worry was written all over Clara’s face, but she seemed a little relieved to see me in person.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Or were you playing </span>
  <em>
    <span>hooky</span>
  </em>
  <span>, my little hooligan? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Two</span>
  </em>
  <span> rebellions in two days?” Jack sniffed and wiped away an invisible tear. “I’ve taught you so well!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I called in tired, so yes and no. But that’s not important right now!” I threw my bag into my chair and walked over to one of the walls in our office. I took down the picture that was hung there - an inspirational kitten-on-a-branch poster that Jack had found at a garage sale - and pinned copies of the pages from my notebook up onto the blank spot. I whirled around and pointed, perhaps a little dramatically, at the pages. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>This </span>
  </em>
  <span>is what’s important! Clara, I need to know more about the missing librarians!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack and Clara came over and looked at the pages carefully.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Labyrinth Clan...Broadway...Xanatos? Melissa, what’s going on?” It was Jack’s turn to look worried.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The patron I went to meet the night before last, Elisa? </span>
  <em>
    <span>She’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> gone missing. And I think it has to do with the missing librarians!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why would you think that?” Clara asked. “She’s not a librarian, she’s a detective!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But she was seen at the Reference Desk, and she met up with </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Maybe whoever has been taking librarians mistook her for </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Jack and Clara looked at each other, then at me.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Melissa, are you saying…” Clara’s voice trembled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think I was being targeted. As the next librarian to disappear. Only this time, they took the wrong woman.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clara erupted into terrified tears. Jack quickly handed her a red bandana he kept in his jacket pocket - ‘always ready to look punk’ he claimed - and she cried into it while he patted her shoulder. Jack steered her towards the nearest chair, and we both crouched down next to her. Neither of us were used to Clara being so emotional, but the disappearances really hit a nerve for her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Clara, I know you’re scared and worried. Trust me, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I am too</span>
  </em>
  <span>. But we need more information on the missing librarians. We have to find Elisa, and maybe we’ll find out what happened to the other librarians, too.” She looked at me over the crumpled edge of the bandana, eyes so red they looked like cherries.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But, you’re in </span>
  <em>
    <span>danger</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” she said between hiccups.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Clara, every librarian knows that the best defense against dangers unknown is </span>
  <em>
    <span>knowledge</span>
  </em>
  <span>! The more we can figure out, the safer we’ll be. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Together</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Jack emphasized, reaching out a hand to both Clara and I. We both took one of his hands in our own, squeezing for comfort, for strength, for connection.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” Clara sniffed, determined. “What do we know, and what do we need to find out?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I stood up and tapped the ‘What We Know’ page. “I was hoping you remembered a few of the missing librarians’ names. Elisa’s partner, Detective Matt Bluestone, is over at the 23rd precinct looking through missing persons files, but names would help him narrow down his search.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clara was quiet, pressing Jack’s bandana firmly to her lips and avoiding our eyes. “The last librarian who went missing was Fatimah Al-Fasi. She…” Clara began crying again. “She was my partner.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack and I glanced at each other quickly. Clara had always worn a wedding ring, but never talked about her ‘husband.’ Jack and I had theorized about what happened, that maybe he had passed away or left. Now we knew why: it was taboo for a </span>
  <em>
    <span>woman</span>
  </em>
  <span> to talk about her </span>
  <em>
    <span>wife</span>
  </em>
  <span>. We loved Clara no matter what, but she kept to the rules, which meant she kept to outdated social rules and prejudices as well. In that moment I looked back and wished she had been able to trust us, and wished that we had tried harder to give her the room to trust us. I looked at the photo on her desk. I had seen it there for years and never really looked at it until now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is this her?” I gently picked up the frame and handed it to her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clara looked at the photo, clutching the bandana. “Yes. Remember when I said I was going on a ‘girls’ trip’ to Los Angeles?” Jack nodded - he had been here longer than I had. “It was actually our honeymoon. We went to the Japanese Gardens. We had to save up for over a year after our wedding before we could afford the trip.” Her face turned hard, her words turned acidic. “Really, I should say it was a year after our ceremony to be ‘notarized as each other’s emergency contact.’” Her face turned sad again. “It was actually a lovely service, just a few close friends and a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot</span>
  </em>
  <span> of wine.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That sounds like a pretty good time to me,” Jack said quietly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She disappeared the night after our eleventh-second anniversary. Eleven years together, two years married,” she continued sadly. “She told me that an ‘interesting patron’ had asked to meet her later that night. I didn’t think anything of it. She was </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>adventurous, so willing to </span>
  <em>
    <span>trust</span>
  </em>
  <span> people, that even though I didn’t like it I knew she would go whether I wanted her to or not. I kissed her goodbye, and never saw her again.” Clara sank down further into her chair. She looked too tired to cry anymore.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I went to the electric kettle we had in our office and took it to the staff kitchenette to fill it before returning to the office. While Jack and I preferred coffee, Clara only drank tea. As the water boiled, Jack pulled a bottle out from a deep desk drawer - whiskey. “I think we could all use a stiff Hot Toddy right now, although we’ll have to do without the lemon.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clara clutched her mug, sipping at the strong drink. Jack must have made her Hot Toddy 75% whiskey, it smelled so strong. I had hung the ‘Personnel Meeting, Please Knock’ sign on our door before he made the Hot Toddies, hoping it would give us enough time to hide the bottle and mugs if anyone from the administration walked in. If we got caught, we would have been fired on the spot.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I had declined the whiskey, settling for tea with a ton of cream and sugar. Whiskey made me sleepy, and I would need the caffeine and sugar to make it through the rest of today, maybe through the night. I prayed that I would be able to grab a few hours of sleep instead, but I knew the chance was slim. While Jack and Clara quietly talked, I called up the precinct and got through to Matt. Clara had the date that Fatimah had disappeared memorized - the last day she had seen her wife - and he was able to find her file. Clara had also been able to recall a few other names from her research into the disappearances.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I tried so hard to find her,” she said, “I looked into as many leads as I could. I even looked into the other disappearances for clues. I wasn’t able to get anywhere with them, but hopefully Detective Bluestone can help us track down the bastard that took Fatimah.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s the spirit, Clara!” Jack was slurring a little, and was trying to act like he wasn’t completely terrified. I hid the rest of the whiskey in the back of a lockable drawer in a file cabinet next to my desk when he wasn’t looking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I pulled my hair back into a quick bun and settled my notebook in front of me, staring at the papers pinned to the wall. “Clara, I may not have known you as long as Jack, but I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> you’ve got some secret file with all your research into the disappearances somewhere. Can we use your research to try and make some connections?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clara set her mostly full mug aside. “Absolutely. Let’s put this information to use. But first I’m going to need more tea, </span>
  <em>
    <span>without</span>
  </em>
  <span> the whiskey.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack scoffed and reached for Clara’s mug. “Aw, Clara, come on! We shouldn’t waste good whiskey!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jack, you’re already halfway drunk, and you and I both know that this wasn’t ‘good’ whiskey.” She snatched it out of his reach. “Plus, this is </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> mug!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I picked up the kettle and the mugs and went back to the kitchenette while Jack went to splash some cold water on his face. We both wanted to give Clara a moment to herself so she could collect her thoughts and pull out the file she had hidden away. As curious as we both were to know more about Clara, we knew she needed to still have her privacy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> knew she needed her privacy. Jack would agree, after he sobered up a little.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We pushed the extra desk in the office against the wall with the pinned papers and spread Clara’s files all over it. With the tea freshly made, we spent the rest of the afternoon going through Clara’s research, running copies of pages to pin up on the wall in groups by similarity.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clara had done an amazing job with her research, with work logs, eyewitness accounts, and stills of Fatimah from surveillance cameras near the library and their apartment. She had copied short newspaper clippings about the missing librarians over the years. She created a timeline of the disappearances. And there was a cassette tape.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll bring in my tape player tomorrow,” a much clearer-eyed Jack offered. “There’s no description, though, just a date. What’s on it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s a recording I took when I spoke with the New York Public Library President and the New York City Police Commissioner a month after Fatimah disappeared. I was able to make them meet with me since I was her official emergency contact, but they weren’t happy about it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They allowed you to record the interview?” I asked, suspicious.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They didn’t know I was recording them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack’s smile nearly split his face in half. “First Melissa, and now </span>
  <em>
    <span>Clara!</span>
  </em>
  <span> Oh, I’m so happy I’m rubbing off on you two! I’ll turn you into anarchists yet! Although, I guess it really should be ‘First Clara, and now Melissa?’ Whatever, we’ll go shopping for leather jackets later!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We read and discussed and copied and pinned for the best of four hours before I decided to call it for the day. I had taken up a lot of their time when they had work to do, and I wasn’t even supposed to be here. Before I left, I went over my notes on what we had figured out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The last three librarians all went missing in the beginning of November, two of them on the 2nd, the most recent one on the 3rd. They all told a coworker - or loved one - that they were going to meet a patron the evening they disappeared. As far as anyone knows, the patron or patrons in question were not considered regulars and somehow made themself (or selves) stand out </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> win over that librarian’s trust. The librarians’ only shared traits are that they were women and they had dark hair, otherwise they varied in age, body type, personality, etc. They had all worked a shift at the Reference Desk the day they went missing, presumably when they met the patron or patrons. The librarians never gave a specific reason </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span> they were going to meet the mystery patron or patrons. We don’t know how many patrons there are, or how they won each librarian’s trust, or what their motivation was. We don’t know where they agreed to meet, just that they were supposed to meet sometime in the evening.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, that sums everything up,” Clara sighed, crushing Jack’s bandana in her hand. Jack didn’t ask for it back, and I suspected he was just going to replace his Emergency Punk Bandana with a new one.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> have more details than that, a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot</span>
  </em>
  <span> more” Jack encouraged, looking over to Clara, “but Melissa described the tip of the iceberg perfectly.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I closed the notebook and slipped it into my bag, grabbing my jacket from a wall hook near the door. “Hopefully this information will be a good place for Detective Bluestone to start. I’ll add in any new information from the missing persons files he finds and whatever other information he was able to gather and report back tomorrow morning.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack promised again to bring his tape player, while Clara sent me off with a tired smile. I waved goodbye to them and headed over to the Civic Center.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Eleven</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Melissa checks back in with Matt, who reveals a break in the case.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is the most recent fully-completed chapter I had as I started posting. From this point on, I'll be posting chapters as I complete them. Hope you've liked the story so far!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>I walked into the 23rd precinct’s front lobby and asked for Detective Bluestone. The officer at the receiving desk pointed me towards the ‘bullpen’ and I was able to spy Matt’s red hair through the busyness of the station.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ms. Campbell, good to see you! Step into my office, please!” The formality threw me off, but glancing around at the officers around us I suspected that he was trying to follow protocol in front of the others.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you, Detective Bluestone. I’m looking forward to being updated on my case.” I stepped into the office and waited for him to close the door. “Matt? The station looked like everything was ‘business as usual,’ shouldn’t they be assembling the search parties or something?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Matt hesitated. “Well, actually...I haven’t told anyone yet.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why haven’t you told anyone about Elisa’s disappearance?! Shouldn’t the whole force be out looking for her?!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Keep it </span>
  <em>
    <span>down</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Matt said quietly, making a downward pushing motion with his hands. “The only other person in the precinct who knows Elisa is missing is Chief Chavez, and we both agreed that this needed to stay quiet until we have more information. Specifically, when we got </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> information. Should I go ahead and call the Chief in, or do you want to share with me, first?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We didn’t find much. Clara had a private file of research on the past three librarians with some good details, but nothing that could lead us to definite information on the patron or patrons.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“‘Patrons,’ as in multiple people?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We don’t have any information on who convinced the librarians to go out on the nights they disappeared, so we can’t say for certain that it was all the same person.” I went on to relay the rest of the summary to Matt. “The files are more detailed, but that’s basically what we have.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s good information, but you’re right, it’s not a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot</span>
  </em>
  <span> of information.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I was hoping that whatever </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> found would round it all out, that with our information pooled together we could find a solid lead.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe, but I didn’t really find out much more than you did.” He spread five manila folders across his desk. “These three are the case files for the librarians. I went ahead and pulled two more that seemed to fit the pattern and they checked out with previous public library employee lists. These other two cases match what you found as far as the victim profile: librarian, dark hair, female. But, what might be interesting is the pictures of their apartments and homes where they were last seen.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He took out several photographs from each file and laid them side-by-side. I hovered over them, trying to take in every detail.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“They all look...normal?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Exactly!” Matt tapped one of the photographs. “They all look </span>
  <em>
    <span>normal</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I...I’m not following.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He picked up two of the photographs and put them both in front of me. “Try looking at just these two. What do you see?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t see anything out of the ordinary, Matt. What am I looking for?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Look at the walls, look really carefully at them.” I took the photographs from him and held them up to the fluorescent lights. Not that the light would help much, but…</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait! There’s a light spot where a picture used to be! In both of them!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Bingo!” Matt picked up another photograph and held it up next to the other two. “All five residences had </span>
  <em>
    <span>one</span>
  </em>
  <span> picture removed. Otherwise, there was nothing else done to the residences. They were all -”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Pristine?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Exactly.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s how Broadway described Elisa’s apartment last night! He didn’t mention anything about a missing photograph, but maybe he just didn’t notice? Plus we were all wound pretty tight, it’d be easy to miss something. We’ll have to ask Broadway, maybe we can meet him there.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And who, exactly, is ‘Broadway?’” a strong voice asked from behind us. We whirled around to find the police chief closing the door behind her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Chief, good of you to join us! Melissa Campbell, let me introduce you to Maria Chavez, the Chief of Detectives for the 23rd Precinct.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I shook Chief Chavez’s hand solemnly. “Detective Bluestone told me that you were the only other person in the precinct who knows about Elisa.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She nodded, crossing over to the photographs. “Yes, we’ve decided to keep it quiet since we don’t know for certain that she’s in danger. My instinct tells me she is, but instinct isn’t enough reason to send out our officers to track her down.” She looked back up to Matt. “I’ll ask again, who is ‘Broadway,’ and why are you going to meet him at Elisa’s apartment?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Matt had a much quicker reaction than I did. “‘Broadway’ is a codename for one of Elisa’s contacts. He’s part of a secret group -” Chief Chavez interrupted him with a groan.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Let me guess, </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Illuminati</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” My eyes widened as I looked from the Chief to Matt.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Not this time, Chief Chavez. This is one of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Elisa’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> contacts, not mine. His group is responsible for surveying key locations throughout the city. They’re hidden in plain sight most of the time, but revealing who they are would compromise them.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The Chief frowned. “That sounds like a group of vigilantes. You’re not trying to protect them, right?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Matt held up his hands. “No way, Chief. They mostly just, er, gather intel, which they might pass on to Elisa or me if there’s enough reason to get the police involved.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Has this group also been involved with some of your’s and Maza’s past cases? Like the one involving a certain mobster and stolen guns?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Matt scratched his head. “I’m not at liberty to say…” At the stern look on the Chief’s face, he added “Unless you really, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> want to know!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We can drop it. For now. But I </span>
  <em>
    <span>will</span>
  </em>
  <span> be having this discussion with </span>
  <em>
    <span>both</span>
  </em>
  <span> you and Maza.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That sounds like a deal, Chief Chavez.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Good. So, Bluestone, what’s your next move?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I still need to consult with Ms. Campbell. Once we’ve got the whole picture, we can go from there.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Very well.” Chief Chavez shot me a suspicious look. “Keep me updated.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Will do, chief!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Chief Chavez left the office, calling out to another detective as she walked through the door. As soon as the door closed behind her, Matt turned back to me. “So, the pictures?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Right!” I paused. “Clara never mentioned anything about a missing picture, though. I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>sure</span>
  </em>
  <span> she would have noticed a picture being taken off the wall…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why would Clara have noticed that?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I realized in a panic that I was on the verge of exposing Clara’s private life. “She and the most recently taken librarian were, um, roommates, so if a picture went missing it would be from Fatimah </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>Clara’s residence. Did any of the other missing librarians have roommates or spouses?” It was an important question, but I also desperately wanted to distract Matt from asking questions about Clara and Fatimah.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Actually, yes. Two of the librarians were married, one - Fatimah - had a roommate, one lived with her family, and the other was a spinster.” He said ‘spinster’ with a smirk on his face, but I bristled at the word.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why is it that when a woman lives alone, she’s called a ‘spinster’ and it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>negative</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but a man that lives alone is called a ‘bachelor’ and it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>positive</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Matt was at least smart enough to look embarrassed. “Oh, uh, maybe it would be better to say the other librarian was...single?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I nodded curtly then cleared my throat and moved on. “So, we need to go to Elisa’s apartment with Broadway and see if a picture was taken, just like the others.” I checked my watch. “And we’re just in time to go update the guys.”</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Twelve</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Melissa meets Talon. It does NOT go well.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Matt and I stepped up into the main room of the clock tower just as the gargoyles were coming in from the balcony. On seeing us, Goliath strode over, nervousness disturbing his usually calm demeanor. “Melissa, Detective Bluestone, have you located Elisa yet?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The look on our faces gave away the answer. He growled in frustration. “Another night that we don’t know where she is. Each night puts her in more danger, </span>
  <em>
    <span>we must find her</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Goliath, listen.” Matt went to Goliath’s side and reached up to put a hand on the gargoyle’s massive shoulder. “We want to find her just as much as you do.” Goliath narrowed his eyes, but Matt went on. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>promise</span>
  </em>
  <span> you, we’re going to find her. Between Melissa and I, we found some more information that could get us a lead.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Matt and I filled the gargoyles in on what we had found. The librarians shared the same visual traits, they had disappeared in early November, we didn’t know if the patrons they were going to meet were all the same person or different individuals, and…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“In all of the librarian’s homes, a picture was missing off of the wall.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Broadway scratched his chin. “Huh, I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>remember</span>
  </em>
  <span> a picture being missing from Elisa’s apartment. We should go look!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Agreed,” Goliath nodded. “We should have Talon come along as well. He may know which picture was taken.” Goliath started for the balcony. “We will meet you at her apartment.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You, Broadway, </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> Talon? All in her apartment?” Matt didn’t look eager to share what must have been a small space with three large beings. Goliath turned and looked sharply at Matt. He put his hands up in surrender. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fine</span>
  </em>
  <span>, we’ll meet you there.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We turned to go down the ladder-stairs when Hudson interrupted all of us.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What aren’t ye’ telling us?” He looked calm and utterly certain that we were keeping something from them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I turned to face the clan. This was my news to share. “We think that the person who took Elisa was actually targeting </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The other gargoyles looked surprised, but Goliath simply nodded his head. “That makes sense. There doesn’t appear to be any other reason why she would have gone missing.” The way he looked at me at that moment made my blood turn cold. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He blames me for Elisa’s disappearance.</span>
  </em>
  <span> I couldn’t, and didn’t, fault him for blaming me: if Elisa and I hadn’t met up that night, she might be here, safe and sound. And I would be the one missing instead.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s exactly why we have to find her. She has a team - a </span>
  <em>
    <span>clan</span>
  </em>
  <span> - that is willing to do whatever it takes to find her. If </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>was taken,” my voice shook a little, “I don’t know if anyone would have tried this hard to find </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I owe it to her to find her, and to find the bastard who’s been kidnapping librarians and making them disappear.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Goliath said nothing, turning back to the balcony and stepping through the glass door. I turned back to the trap door leading into the abandoned janitor’s office and started down the ladder-stair when Brooklyn quietly came up behind me.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Melissa…” He looked worried, and there was another emotion in his expression, but I couldn’t place it. “We would have looked for you, too. Elisa wouldn’t have let us give up until we found you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I looked up at him. “Thanks, Brooklyn.” My smile was small and sad and polite. Elisa </span>
  <em>
    <span>would</span>
  </em>
  <span> have asked the gargoyles to help find me, and they </span>
  <em>
    <span>would</span>
  </em>
  <span> have helped, but I knew it wouldn’t have been with the same ferocity. This was my third night meeting the gargoyles, but Elisa had known them for a long time, perhaps years. And if I had gone missing </span>
  <em>
    <span>before</span>
  </em>
  <span> I met Elisa, I would have probably ended up in Matt’s missing librarians files. The truth stung, but it </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> the truth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brooklyn clutched the edge of the trap door, leaning forward so the whole room couldn't hear him. “</span>
  <em>
    <span> I </span>
  </em>
  <span>would have looked for you,” he said softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?” Tears started welling up in my eyes. I felt childish asking. I had family and friends that would miss me, and that would have looked for me. But having a gargoyle, even just </span>
  <em>
    <span>one </span>
  </em>
  <span>, say that he would have looked for me made me feel special. I didn’t get to feel special too often.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t have stopped until I found you.” He leaned even closer, his face only a few inches away from mine. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>swear </span>
  </em>
  <span>.“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I could see in his eyes that he was telling the truth. I placed my hand on top of his where it gripped the edge of the trapdoor and squeezed. “Thank you.” I hoped my smile looked as warm as my heart felt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was still, like he had on the balcony two nights ago. Then he turned his hand to hold mine and squeezed back before pulling away, back into his regular crouch. “Uh, just wanted to say good luck, and keep us updated!” He turned and walked towards the other gargoyles, then turned back. “And...be </span>
  <em>
    <span>careful </span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We will!” I smiled and descended the ladder-stairs. I wasn’t completely sure what had happened, but I was feeling lighter and more determined to find Elisa than ever.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Matt was waiting by the door of the janitor’s closet. “What held you up?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Brooklyn just, uh, wanted to wish us good luck, and to be careful.” I included Matt, despite my suspicion that Brooklyn had been talking to me alone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Matt scoffed. “Really? Usually he’s just trying to get the last quip in a conversation.” Matt shook his head. “He must be really worried about Elisa to forget to send us off with a snappy one-liner.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>My heart sank a little. It made sense that Brooklyn would be worried about Elisa, but it had felt like he was really talking </span>
  <em>
    <span>to me</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I mentally shook myself. It was completely selfish of me to assume that any of the gargoyles would focus on </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> rather than </span>
  <em>
    <span>Elisa</span>
  </em>
  <span>, especially since Elisa was </span>
  <em>
    <span>missing</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Matt and I arrived at Elisa’s apartment at the same time as Goliath, Broadway, and another large creature. The third creature was shaped similarly to the gargoyles, but instead of being humanoid, he looked more like a panther.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Melissa, this is Talon,” Goliath said, motioning towards the cat-like gargoyle.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nice to meet you. I didn’t know gargoyles could look like panthers.” Talon widened his eyes, like a cat that had just spotted its prey. The hair on his tail started to stand on end, but he tried to maintain a calm voice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I am </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> a gargoyle.” Anger lurked behind every word. “I am a </span>
  <em>
    <span>mutate</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” I had no idea what the difference was, and now I was afraid to ask.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Talon used to be Elisa’s brother, Derek,” Broadway started explaining, completely ignoring the tense feeling in the room. “But an evil doctor injected him with a serum that turned him into a mutate! He was trying to create one that turned humans into </span>
  <em>
    <span>gargoyles</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but we wouldn’t let him have our DNA, so he had to improvise.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I looked from Broadway to Talon, then glanced over at Goliath. As much as it sounded like the plot of an overdramatic TV show, it seemed to be the truth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Talon. I only learned about gargoyles three nights ago. It looks like I’ve got a lot of catching up to do.” It seemed like it was going to be a while before I stopped putting my foot in my mouth. I wondered if Talon also liked steak.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He growled but turned away, starting to look around the apartment. We split up and searched the walls and tabletops. They were right, I had no idea what to look for. A light outline of a frame on a wall would have been easier for me to spot, but it didn’t appear that any of those pictures had been taken.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Matt was the first one to find anything. Or, </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> find anything. “There’s a picture missing from here!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He pointed to the slim edge that made up the sill behind Elisa’s massive tilted windows. While most of the area was dedicated to the windows and the view they offered, there were a few items placed along the sill. A small houseplant, one of her cat Cagney’s toys, and a space that Matt motioned to.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Elisa had a picture here. It was kind of small, I’m not sure what the picture was, but I noticed it every time I came in. It was usually placed straight ahead of the door, so you saw it every time you came in.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t remember that, but I guess  Goliath and I usually use the windows as our door,” Broadway shook his head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Talon walked over to the sill, looking down. “I think I remember what the picture was...It’s on the tip of my tongue…” He crossed his arms, staring at the spot in concentration.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I wanted to help, somehow. I thought of useful questions: Was it a picture of a person? Multiple people? An animal? Was it so small so you couldn’t see the details? Who or what is so important to her that she would have their picture as the first thing she saw when she came in? But I realized, after my brief interaction with Talon a minute ago, that I wouldn’t be ‘helping,’ but ‘interrupting.’ Being unable - or unwelcome - to help made me feel out of place.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We stood in silence, letting Talon think. I had to keep stopping myself from interrupting him, getting more and more frustrated. Finally he roared loudly in frustration, slamming his fists on the narrow sill and rattling the windows. “I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>remember</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I didn’t know Talon’s story except for what Broadway had briefly explained. He seemed angry, frustrated, and maybe a little sad.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe now was the time I could help.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Talon?” He looked up, eyes narrowed angrily. “Could I ask a few questions about the picture? See if I can’t help jog your memory?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was </span>
  <em>
    <span>fast</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He strode up to me in two steps, standing over me, wings spread out. “What do you think you could </span>
  <em>
    <span>possibly</span>
  </em>
  <span> ask that could ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>help?</span>
  </em>
  <span>’”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Matt and Broadway took steps towards me, concerned, but Goliath was at his side before he could finish his question, gripping Talon’s arm in warning. Talon turned his head toward Goliath, snarling.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Was the picture of a person?” I asked as loudly as I could without yelling. This was similar to trying to handle violent patrons, only much, </span>
  <em>
    <span>much</span>
  </em>
  <span> more dangerous. The best strategy was to distract from the conflict and redirect everyone’s attention to something neutral. In this case, to the missing picture.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Talon stopped his snarl, shifting his gaze back to me. He relaxed slightly. “I think so.” The other three looked at each other, then looked at me, waiting for me to go on.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you remember if it was of just one person, or a group of people?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just one.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Was it a family member?” He was focusing back on the picture, relaxing more and more. As he relaxed, we relaxed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He thought about it. “No, it wasn’t any of us.” He continued thinking, out loud. “It wasn’t a picture of any of her family, or any of her friends. It was…” His head snapped up. “It was of a </span>
  <em>
    <span>statue</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A statue? I thought you said it was of a person?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, a person-like statue.” He turned to face Goliath. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Your </span>
  </em>
  <span>statue.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A photograph of me, in my stone sleep?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, and she would see it every time she walked into this apartment. She wouldn’t tell me why she had a photo of a statue. I didn’t make the connection that it was a picture of </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> until now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So the kidnapper took the picture of Goliath when he took Elisa. But </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” I turned to Matt. “Does that make any sense compared to the other missing photographs?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Matt took out his small flip notebook and looked at his notes. “There wasn’t any information on what the photographs were of...Oh! Remember to ask your friend Clara,” he reminded me. “But, the photos….</span>
  <em>
    <span>yes!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” He slapped the page of his notebook. “All of the photos were in </span>
  <em>
    <span>direct view</span>
  </em>
  <span> of the residence’s door. And, in most cases…” He flipped a few pages. “In most cases they were directly </span>
  <em>
    <span>in front of</span>
  </em>
  <span> the doors!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“YES!” I jumped, fists in the air. I turned to look at the stunned men in front of me. “Guys! WE’VE GOT A LEAD!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Broadway laughed at my excitement. “I think you’re getting ahead of yourself!” Broadway offered. “That’s not enough information to really be a ‘lead.’”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I tugged my jacket back in place and smoothed out my sweater, embarrassed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Matt said. “It’s a </span>
  <em>
    <span>start</span>
  </em>
  <span>. If we get confirmation from Melissa’s friend about what the picture missing from her apartment was, </span>
  <em>
    <span>then</span>
  </em>
  <span> we might get a lead.” He smiled at me encouragingly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I nodded.  “Yes, I’ll talk to her tomorrow at work.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Talon started yelling again. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>WHY</span>
  </em>
  <span> aren’t you going to talk to her </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span>? </span>
  <em>
    <span>MY SISTER IS MISSING</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now I started blushing. I tried my hardest not to tear up. Matt came to put a hand on my shoulder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Talon, we </span>
  <em>
    <span>get it</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Everyone in here is worried about Elisa. But you can’t expect Melissa to just wake up her coworker to get an answer in the middle of the night!” I could tell from the tone of his voice that he was trying to make me feel better. He didn’t see that my red face and blurry eyes were from </span>
  <em>
    <span>anger</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If you ‘get it,’ then you would agree with me!” Talon continued yelling.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“ALRIGHT. I’LL CALL CLARA.” I had tried not to yell and failed miserably. As much as I didn’t want this conversation to get more heated, I was angry, and I was embarrassed that I had gotten so excited over such a small ‘start.’ “I’ll call her, but I’ll do it from home. She won’t recognize the number from here, or from the clock tower.” I looked to Goliath. “I’ll just head home and call her from there.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’ll go with you,” Talon said with a growl.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, but that’s not going to work.” Talon snarled in response. He didn’t seem like the kind of person who would take ‘no’ for an answer when it came to protecting his family, but this was another matter entirely. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I held my hands up in what I hoped was a calming gesture. “I live on the third floor of a five-floor apartment building, in an </span>
  <em>
    <span>extremely</span>
  </em>
  <span> well lit area, with no roof access. Plus, my windows are on the small side compared to these,” I gestured at the angled windows. “So unless you want to suddenly reveal yourselves to my entire neighborhood, you can’t come.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Goliath, with his commanding presence, was able to back me up. “Talon, she’s right. We cannot risk exposing ourselves to the world at large just yet. But, perhaps we can reach a compromise?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Matt was the one who came up with the solution: a three-way phone call, where I would call Elisa’s apartment first, then call Clara, while everyone on the other end kept quiet (which I assume would be Matt’s responsibility). I made sure to point out that Clara might not answer her phone in the middle of the night, so everyone should be prepared to wait just in case.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Goliath insisted on watching over me as I went back to my apartment, in case whoever took Elisa realized their mistake and came for me. Goliath wanted to be the first one to get his hands on whoever it was, and as a bonus for me I would get some extra protection. He followed me from the door to Elisa’s apartment, to the taxi, to my own apartment. He made sure to glide out of the reach of the city lights and wandering eyes, and again I felt comforted to know that up above me was someone who wanted to protect me, even though I couldn’t see him.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <span>I wondered if this was how Elisa usually felt. If it was, then I couldn’t imagine what it would feel like when your guardian gargoyle </span>
  <em>
    <span>couldn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> find you.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Thirteen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Clara gives Matt and Melissa a new clue, and Jack gets pissed about it.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was almost four in the morning when I called Elisa’s apartment to start the three-way call. I called Elisa’s apartment from the number on the torn-off piece of paper from Matt’s notebook. He picked up after the first ring, and we made awful small talk while they waited for Goliath to return. As anxious as Talon was to start the phone call, we all knew that Goliath would want to be there to listen in as well.</p><p> </p><p>Matt finally gave the go-ahead, switching Elisa’s phone to speaker as I dialed in Clara.</p><p> </p><p>The phone rang, rang, rang, then picked up. A panicked voice came on the other line.</p><p> </p><p>“Melissa?! Are you okay?!” From the tone of her voice, Clara had been asleep before her phone started ringing, and usually when someone called in the middle of the night, it didn’t bode well. I prayed for the guys on the other line to stay quiet.</p><p> </p><p>“Clara, yes, I’m okay, I’m sorry to wake you like this.” I tried to project calm with my voice, but without being able to see her I wasn’t sure if it was working. “Clara, I have a really important question to ask you about your <em> roommate </em> who disappeared. Do you remember Fatimah?”</p><p> </p><p>I prayed with all my might that Clara got the hint that someone else was on the line, that she knew me well enough that I wouldn’t just forget about who Fatimah really was to her.</p><p> </p><p>“Fatimah, my roommate,” Clara said cautiously, feeling out the tone of my voice.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, I’ve got a question about her disappearance. I’m not sure if you’ll remember this or not, but I wanted to give it a shot.”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course. What do you need to know?”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you remember if there was a photograph missing from your apartment after she disappeared?”</p><p> </p><p>Clara stayed quiet on the other end for a moment. I heard some fabric movement from the second line, which I was actually grateful for. Clara would hopefully ignore it, but know that someone was listening in.</p><p> </p><p>“I think I <em> do </em> remember a photograph going missing.”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you happen to remember what it was a photograph of?”</p><p> </p><p>Clara sighed in concentration. “I’m not sure…”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe this will help: it would have likely been visible from the door into your apartment, if not directly in front of the door.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh! Yes, I remember now! Our answering machine was on a little table just next to the door, and on either side of the machine we each had a picture. We had our portraits from our graduations. Mine was from my graduate school graduation, when I got my MLS. Hers was from her PhD. I think,” she added on hastily.</p><p> </p><p>“Which picture went missing?”</p><p> </p><p>“It was the picture of me, actually. I really didn’t think anything of it at the time, but...Melissa, is there something I should know?”</p><p> </p><p>“Since you’ve been helping me with the case,” I said loudly and clearly, “I think you deserve to know: all of the missing librarians had one photograph taken from their residences, but there’s not much description of what those were photographs of. Detective Bluestone figured out their placement, and when he and I went to Elisa’s apartment we discovered that the picture missing from her apartment was of one of her <em> close </em> friends.” I hoped I wasn’t hitting the ‘friend’ coverup too hard, but I really wanted to make sure she remembered we weren’t the only ones on the phone.</p><p> </p><p>“So between Elisa and Fatimah, you think that the common theme of the missing photographs could be that they were of someone they cared about that was also in sight of the door?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, what do you think? Does that seem plausible?”</p><p> </p><p>Clara stayed quiet again, thinking. Finally she answered, “It’s possible, but to have a more solid theory you really need to try to find out what was in at least one other photograph. Two can be a coincidence, but three similar photographs could become a theory.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, I’ll call up Detective Bluestone and let him know. Sorry again for calling so late, Clara. Get some sleep, I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”</p><p> </p><p>“Goodnight, Melissa. And <em> be careful </em>.” She hung up, while I stayed on the line.</p><p> </p><p>“Matt, did you get that?”</p><p> </p><p>“Loud and clear! And your friend is right, we need to figure out what was in at least <em> one </em> other photograph to move forward.”</p><p> </p><p>“So how do we do that?”</p><p> </p><p>Matt sighed. “We get some sleep, then I look through the missing persons files and make a few phone calls while you go to work and see if any of your other coworkers remembers anything about the other missing librarians.”</p><p> </p><p>I yawned when he mentioned sleep, suddenly realizing how tired I was. “That sounds like a good plan. Meet you at the clocktower tomorrow before sunset?”</p><p> </p><p>“Unless something else comes up, then <em> call me </em> . And Melissa,” his tone was deadly serious, “your friend is right, you need to be careful. Just because Elisa’s missing doesn’t mean that the kidnapper <em> won’t </em> still come after you.” I heard a deep voice muffled on the other end. “Goliath says that he’ll come watch over your building until he has to head back to the clocktower.”</p><p> </p><p>I sighed in relief. “Tell him thanks from me, I really appreciate that.”</p><p> </p><p>“No problem, Melissa. Goodnight.” I hung up, more exhausted that I had ever been in my life, and laid down on my couch to snatch a few hours of sleep before work.</p><p> </p><p>The next morning, I woke to the sound of my alarm in my bedroom. The alarm had been going off for nearly twenty minutes before I heard it, already starting my day off late. I rushed to get ready and head to the Main Branch. Clara and Jack were not going to be happy with me being late, especially not now.</p><p> </p><p>I hurried into our office, where Clara and Jack abruptly stopped their conversation and turned to me.</p><p> </p><p>“You let someone spy on Clara!” Jack accused, shoving a finger in my face. Clearly I should have been here on time. I slapped Jack’s hand away.</p><p> </p><p>“I let someone listen in on a conversation between <em> both </em> Clara and I. And I <em> had </em> to! I wouldn’t have tried to wake Clara up in the middle of the night if Talon hadn't -”</p><p> </p><p>“Who the hell is Talon?!” Jack hadn’t moved, but the intensity in his stare made it clear that he was ready for a fight.</p><p> </p><p>“Talon is, uh, Detective Bluestone’s nickname,” I covered hastily. “Detective Bluestone <em> insisted </em> that I call Clara and get the information from her.”</p><p> </p><p>“So <em> why </em> did you let him listen in on your conversation?!” Jack’s voice was beginning to get out of control, shaking with rage.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> JACK. </em> ” Clara sat on the edge of her desk, looking serious. “I <em> told </em> you, Melissa warned me that someone was on the line. I don’t think Melissa would have let someone listen into our conversation if she wasn’t <em> forced </em> to. Right?” Clara turned to me, and I was thankful she was on my side.</p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t have a choice. But I’m glad that you got my warning. I’m so sorry I had to call Fatimah your roommate, but I didn’t know how else to warn you without, you know…”</p><p> </p><p>“...Giving away the fact that we were two women who were secretly married to each other?” Clara nodded, looking thoughtful. “I’m glad you kept my secret, but…” She looked at the photograph on her desk. “I really wish that I had just <em> told people </em>. Then I could at least be honest with everyone. I don’t know why I cared so much about what other people thought about us.”</p><p> </p><p>“You cared because you knew what it could do to you - to you <em> and </em> Fatimah - if you told people. You’d have been attacked more than you already have been. People would have <em> protested your existence </em> ! People would have <em> hated you </em> for <em> loving someone </em>!” Jack moved around our shared office like a whirlwind of anger and frustration.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s what I told myself, too,” Clara said quietly. “I said I did it to protect us. But Fatimah didn’t <em> care </em> who knew. So, was I really protecting us? Or was I just protecting <em> myself </em>?”</p><p> </p><p>Jack stopped mid-stride to look at Clara. “Melissa <em> still </em> shouldn’t have put you at risk like that!”</p><p> </p><p>“I agree,” I interrupted him. “Clara, I shouldn’t have put you at risk, and I’m sorry I did. I wish I could have prevented it, and I tried to protect you as best as I could, but you were still put in an awkward position because of me. I’m sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>I pulled a small cardboard box out of my bag and placed it on her desk. It was a box of Clara’s favorite office tea, English Breakfast.</p><p> </p><p>Clara smiled. “Melissa, you don’t <em> have </em> to bring someone a present every time you apologize to them,” she said, picking up the box of tea. “But in this case, I appreciate it. I’m running low on my supply!” She opened a desk drawer and tucked the box away.</p><p> </p><p>Jack stood with his arms crossed in the middle of the office, scowling at me. “You can bribe Clara to forgive you, Melissa, but you can’t bribe <em> me </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>I was going to try to make a joke with him, something about neon green hair dye, but stopped when I saw the look on his face. This wasn’t Jack being overly dramatic, this was Jack being <em> furious </em>. The three of us sat there in the tense silence, until Clara suddenly turned and threw something at Jack’s head.</p><p> </p><p>“Wha-?!” An empty tea box bounced off of his nose. “CLARA!”</p><p> </p><p>“Jack, if I’m not upset anymore, then <em> you </em> can’t be upset anymore! Unless your personal grudge against Melissa doesn’t involve <em> me </em> or <em> Fatimah </em>, then you need to get over it!”</p><p> </p><p>“Clara, I-!” Jack whined, but she interrupted him.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> No </em> . You don’t get to lash out at Melissa because you’re scared. Melissa apologized, I’m not upset anymore - I wasn’t even that upset in the <em> first </em> place - so <em> you </em> need to pull it together so we can find Fatimah!” Her voice had gotten louder as she scolded Jack, who was now pouting.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Fine </em> .” Jack sat heavily in his chair again, sinking into a full pout. He swiveled in my direction and asked sourly, “So, do you have anything to <em> share </em>, Melissa?”</p><p> </p><p>I pulled out my notebook, pushing the large stack of new sources for evaluation on my desk aside. “I’m sure Clara’s already told you about our conversation this morning. What Detective Bluestone wanted to know was if the pictures that were missing from the residences of the missing women were similar, and I think they were.”</p><p> </p><p>I wrote out the new notes on a piece of paper and went to pin it to our wall with ‘Leads.’ I hesitated, remembering Broadway’s words the night before, and pinned it to ‘Evidence’ instead. “Of the two pictures we know about, they both seem to be of people who are important to the victim.”</p><p> </p><p>I turned to look back at the other two. “What we know now, thanks to Clara, is that the kidnapper knew what photograph to take.”</p><p> </p><p>“How do you figure that?” Jack asked, still deep in his pout.</p><p> </p><p>“Clara said that there were two photographs to choose from in her and Fatimah’s apartment, and the kidnapper chose the picture of Clara. In Elisa’s apartment, the picture that was missing was of -” I caught myself before I said ‘Goliath,’ remembering how I had messed up and already mentioned Talon. “-someone Elisa cared about a lot.”</p><p> </p><p>Clara looked at the new piece of paper on the wall. “Someone she cared a lot about, like Fatimah and I?”</p><p> </p><p>I tilted my head, thinking. “I’m honestly not sure. I don’t know Elisa very well, hardly at all, really. But, the person in her picture is one of the new friends I met a few nights ago. From the way the two of them acted, it seems like they both care for each other a lot. I don’t know if it’s romantic, but they <em> definitely </em> care about each other.”</p><p> </p><p>I continued, "But regardless of how the victim cared for the person in the photograph, Clara's missing photo shows us that the kidnapper knew enough about the victim to know <em>who</em> mattered to them. The photograph of either Clara or Fatimah could have been taken, but the kidnapper took the one of <em>Clara</em>."</p><p> </p><p>Jack leaned over in his chair, his face resting on his fist, and jiggled his leg impatiently. “Okay, great, so it was of a person that the victim cared about. Clara said you guys need to figure out if one more photograph fits that profile for it to be a <em> real </em> theory. Any leads on that, <em> detective </em>?”</p><p> </p><p>I wanted to glare at Jack, to grab the tea box and fling it at him myself, but instead I just let the anger at his childishness build up inside me. If I kept going and ignored him, eventually we would both feel better. I just had to push through my annoyance with him and focus on finding Elisa. I steadied myself with a deep breath.</p><p> </p><p>“No, I don’t have any leads on that. Detective Bluestone is looking through his files, and looking up there -” I gestured to our wall, “- I don’t think we have anything concrete to help us here, either.”</p><p> </p><p>Jack groaned and leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. “<em> Great </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“Jack, that’s <em> enough </em> .” Clara was through with his dramatics. “If you can’t even contribute a <em> positive </em> attitude, then you need to consider switching offices for a while.” Jack bolted upright and I stared at Clara in shock.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> What </em>?! Clara, that’s totally unfair! This is my office just as much as it is yours!”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, and you’re a member of our team. But you aren’t contributing anything useful. In fact, you’re <em> taking away </em> morale. That’s enough to get you reassigned to a different office for a few weeks. Do you want that, or do you want to get back on board with finding the person who’s been putting all our lives at risk?”</p><p> </p><p>It was my turn to interrupt. “Jack, Clara, I think we’ve gone as far as we can with what we’ve got right now. Maybe for today we should just do our day jobs, and if any ideas pop into our heads we can put them up on the wall. It might be nice to dive into familiar work for a while.”</p><p> </p><p>Clara and Jack both nodded, each a little bit disappointed that today wasn’t going to be filled with finding clues and connecting dots on this case. But luckily for all three of us, it was easy to get engrossed in our regular task of evaluating sources for the library. Hopefully, Matt would have more information for us in the evening.</p><p><br/>
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  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Fourteen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A dead end turns into a lead, and someone has a breakdown. (It's Melissa.)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“There has to be <em> something </em> we’re not seeing!” Matt muttered angrily. We were headed for the janitor’s closet to get to the clock tower, and unfortunately for both of us, he hadn’t been able to find any more information on the other missing librarians.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you sure that there’s no one else you can interview or call?” I was frustrated, too. I had hoped for some new information from Matt, but all of the leads on the other missing librarians had turned out to be dead ends.</p><p> </p><p>Matt sighed. “I called all the contacts in all the files for the other four victims, but the ones who picked up didn’t remember anything, and some of the calls were wrong numbers or out of service.” He pulled down the ceiling hatch and began climbing up to the clock tower’s main room. “I’m telling you, there’s some kind of clue that’s right under our noses, we just can’t see it!”</p><p> </p><p>I emerged into the main room after Matt and headed towards the balcony. It was just a few minutes away from sundown, and we both knew Goliath would want updates as soon as he woke up.</p><p> </p><p>He was going to be very upset tonight.</p><p> </p><p>We walked out onto the balcony, cool autumn air gently drifting past us. The wind wasn’t as strong today, which could mean that the gargoyles would have a difficult time patrolling tonight.</p><p> </p><p>Which would also make Goliath very upset.</p><p> </p><p>Matt and I stood quietly on the balcony, both lost in thought. We were both trying to connect the dots between the evidence we had found to Elisa's disappearance, getting nowhere.</p><p> </p><p>The sun slid below the horizon, and I watched the gargoyle’s awaken. After pieces of stone had been brushed off, yawns had been fully yawned, and wings and limbs stretched, the gargoyles gathered around us on the balcony. Tonight, there weren’t any cheerful greetings. It was the third night of Elisa’s disappearance.</p><p> </p><p>Goliath looked at Matt, then me, then turned to stare at the city. He didn’t even have to ask if we had new information. It was written on our faces.</p><p> </p><p>“So, no leads, huh?” Lexington asked sadly, trying to fill the silence.</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Matt huffed and ran a hand through his hair. “Nothing from the files or from calling around for more information.”</p><p> </p><p>“And nothing from our end either,” I added lamely.</p><p> </p><p>Broadway frowned. “This isn’t good, it’s been over 48 hours since Elisa’s been missing.”</p><p> </p><p>Goliath turned to Broadway. “Any amount of time that she has been missing ‘isn’t good.’ Why is 48 hours significant?”</p><p> </p><p>Broadway started, realizing that he had a very upset Goliath’s full attention. “Well, uh, in all the cop shows, if a victim’s missing for more than 48 hours, it’s uh...well…”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s likely they’ll never be found,” Matt finished.</p><p> </p><p>Goliath turned and stared out over the city again. He suddenly roared and raised both fists, slamming them on the stone railing, causing it to crack and leaving two dents where his fists had landed. He let his fists slip off the railing as he stood back up.</p><p> </p><p>“We have to find her. <em> Tonight </em>,” he growled.</p><p> </p><p>I looked around the balcony at the other gargoyles. They all seemed worried, and sad, and <em> scared </em> . Their friend, someone who was considered a member of their <em> clan </em>, was missing, and we all felt powerless to find her.</p><p> </p><p>Goliath quietly turned and walked into the clock tower, the rest of us trailing in behind him.</p><p> </p><p>I set my notebook down on the table and sat on one of the crates, staring at it. If I could just think of something, <em> anything </em>, we could get this case back on track and find Elisa.</p><p> </p><p>Or maybe I was just trying to convince myself that <em> I </em> could fix this. That <em> I </em> could be the plucky heroine who solves the case and wins the day. It was selfish of me to hope that I could fill that role, when I was the one who had led to her disappearance in the first place.</p><p> </p><p>Broadway broke the silence first. “Maybe...we should start from the beginning?”</p><p> </p><p>We all looked at him, confused. “We don’t know who the first librarian that was taken was,” Matt said. “We can’t start at the beginning of the kidnappings.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s not what I meant,” Broadway leaned forward, a gleam in his eye. “We should start from the beginning of when Elisa met Melissa!”</p><p> </p><p>Everyone turned to stare at me. “When Elisa and I met, at the Main Branch?” I was still confused, and was now the center of some very unwanted attention.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah!” Broadway stood and began to pace the room, building up his momentum. “You said the kidnapper targets librarians, takes a photo of someone that matters to them, and knows enough about the target that they know <em> which </em> photo to take and <em> where </em> it is, right?”</p><p> </p><p>I nodded my head and squirmed. “Yes, that seems to be right. Where are you going with this, Broadway?”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Melissa </em> !” Broadway was <em> beaming </em> now. It was unnerving. “Don’t you see what this means?!”</p><p> </p><p>“Um...no?”</p><p> </p><p>“The kidnapper was targeting Elisa <em> before she met you </em>!”</p><p> </p><p>My breath caught in my throat. All of the air seemed like it was sucked out of the room, and it was so quiet all we could hear was the clock mechanisms clicking.</p><p> </p><p>“Broadway, explain yourself,” Goliath demanded.</p><p> </p><p>“Look,” he swung around, trying to reach every part of his rapt audience. “If the kidnapper knew to take the picture of Goliath, when Goliath looked like a <em> statue </em> , then he must know that Elisa cares about Goliath when he’s <em> not </em> a statue!”</p><p> </p><p>“Broadway, I know you <em> think </em> you’re making sense right now,” Brooklyn said, “but you’re practically speaking Klingon, here. Try explaining it so that <em> we </em> can understand, huh?”</p><p> </p><p>Broadway groaned, sliding his hand over his face. “You guys are such amateurs! Let me lay it out: The person who took Elisa must <em> know </em> Elisa, and they must <em> know </em> about Goliath, because why else would they know to take a picture that <em> looked like a statue </em> to any other person?”</p><p> </p><p>“If they took Elisa by mistake,” Matt said slowly, “they wouldn't have taken a picture of a statue, they would have taken a picture of something that looked <em>alive</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Exactly! </em>” Broadway shouted triumphantly.</p><p> </p><p>“Wait, so does this mean that it wasn’t Melissa’s fault?” Lexington asked. All eyes turned back to me again.</p><p> </p><p>“It seems so,” Goliath said slowly.</p><p> </p><p>“So this <em> isn’t </em> related to the missing librarians?” Brooklyn asked, slowly drawing out the question.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s unlikely,” Matt said. He had his small notebook out and was writing furiously, flipping back and forth in his notes. “This is still around the same time as the other disappearances, and it’s the same M.O. Even the picture missing lines up. The only thing that doesn’t line up is <em> Elisa </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Everyone started talking at once, trying to reason through the newly discovered angle. Goliath and Matt stood in deep conversation, while Broadway and Lexington picked up my notebook and flipped through it, Lexington taking notes on scrap pieces of paper and rearranging them on the table while Broadway read them aloud. Hudson and Bronx stood back, watching and waiting to be of use.</p><p> </p><p>I stayed frozen in place. I was so relieved that I hadn’t caused Elisa’s disappearance, so relieved that I <em> hadn’t </em> been the target, but at the same time, I was scared. Scared that this meant that I wouldn’t be needed here any more.</p><p> </p><p>Brooklyn made his way over to me, weaving around Lexington and Broadway. “Hey, this is good news, right?” He seemed thrilled at the new development in the case.</p><p> </p><p>“Um...yeah...I mean, yes,” I tried to snap out of my selfish thoughts. “Yes, this is good news. It’s <em> great, </em> actually! This should give you some new directions to go in.”</p><p> </p><p>He looked at me, his brow bones and the frown on the corners of his mouth shaping confusion on his face. “What do you mean, ‘this should give <em> you </em> some new directions?’” He emphasized the ‘you’ hard.</p><p> </p><p>“Ah,” I gently sank to sit on the crate nearest to me, my heart sinking long after my body did. “Well, it’s just that, if I don’t have anything to do with her disappearance, then why would you guys keep me around?” I gripped the edge of the crate, my knuckles going white, while I tried to keep my face neutral. I could still feel a flush crawling up my cheeks, despite my best effort to look 'fine.'</p><p> </p><p>“‘Why would we keep you around’...Melissa, do you think we’re going to tell you to leave? Just because you weren’t targeted by some <em> psycho </em> kidnapper?!” He said it loudly, earning a glance in our direction from Hudson.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know...maybe?”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s <em> insane </em> , you’re our <em> friend </em> , and you’re <em> Elisa’s </em> friend! Don’t you want to help us look for her?!”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Of course I do </em>, but I don’t -”</p><p> </p><p>“-You don’t think you can help us, is that it?” Brooklyn interrupted, accusation creeping into his voice.</p><p> </p><p>I had tried, <em> so hard </em>, to hold back the anger that had built up in me just that morning from my confrontation with Jack. It had boiled down into the pit of my stomach, and normally I would have been able to keep it contained, to wait until I had gotten home and had a hot bath or a big meal and let it all just slip away from me. But I hadn’t been home yet. I hadn’t been getting enough sleep for the past four nights, because when I wasn’t at work, I was here. I was exhausted, running off of caffeine fumes, and now my feelings were hurt.</p><p> </p><p>And if I wasn’t so angry, I would have been able to control myself.</p><p> </p><p>But I couldn’t.</p><p> </p><p>“I sure as shit <em> COULD </em> help you, but <em> you guys DON’T WANT SOME STRANGER’S HELP, DO YOU. </em> ” It wasn’t a question in my mind, so it wasn’t a question in my yell. I was standing, yelling in Brooklyn's face, loud enough for my voice to bounce off the stone walls. “ <em> ONE </em> of you has made it <em> VERY CLEAR </em> that it’s <em> MY FAULT </em> that Elisa’s missing! Just because there’s a new lead doesn’t mean that I’ve forgotten that <em> you think </em> it was <em> MY. FAULT. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“Whoa, Melissa! I-”</p><p> </p><p>But I wasn’t done.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> AND NOW, </em> now that there’s a <em> new lead </em> , <em> YOU DON’T EVEN NEED ME TO BE HERE, right?! </em> I’ll just <em> get in the way </em> , I’ll just <em> be useless </em>, I’ll just-”</p><p> </p><p>Brooklyn grabbed my upper arms in a grip stronger than steel. “MELISSA, YOU NEED TO COOL IT.”</p><p> </p><p>I started sobbing. I was so <em> tired </em> , and I was so <em> hurt </em>, that I had lost my last shred of self-control and burst into tears. These weren’t the same tears of panic from the balcony the first time I met the gargoyles. These weren’t the same tears of relief and thankfulness from Brooklyn’s goodbye the other night. These were ugly, gasping, red-faced, snot-faucet tears.</p><p> </p><p>Tears of shame and exhaustion.</p><p> </p><p>I sobbed so hard that I started curling in on myself. My legs went weak. If Brooklyn hadn’t been holding me up, I would have sunk to the floor in a pathetic puddle. I gasped between loud whimpers and wails, tears stinging my eyes and my cheeks, snot dripping from my nose over my lips. It felt like a hundred lead weights had been tied to the bottom of my ribcage, pulling me down towards the floor. I couldn’t even bring my arms up to cover my face because of Brooklyn’s grip on me.</p><p> </p><p>The sounds of my sobbing bounced around the big room, off of the glass clock faces and the metal gears and bars, off the crates and walls, off the people standing shocked around me.</p><p> </p><p>It took a long time, too long, before my sobbing ebbed away. It took all of my energy with it, leaving me even more exhausted, to the point where I was ready to pass out standing up.</p><p> </p><p>Brooklyn still held me by my arms. His grip on my upper arms had tightened as I had cried, the muscles in his arms tensing as my legs went weak. I almost hung from his hands, head bowed over, legs wobbly, and my hands wrapped around his forearms, trying to pull out of his grip.</p><p> </p><p>He gently pushed me back, guiding me so that I was sitting on the crate again. He slowly started to release his grip, waiting to see if I would stay upright on my own. I folded my arms over my stomach, then leaned over my knees, letting my head hang. I was still gasping, sporadic breaths that ended in coughs, making my throat feel raw. He had kept his hands flat on my arms, no longer gripping them, but following as I curled over, ready to catch me if I fell forward. A kind gesture.</p><p> </p><p>He crouched down low, placing his hands on the crate edge to either side of me, trying to catch my bloodshot, watery eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“Melissa…”</p><p> </p><p>He tried to keep his voice quiet, and soft, and calm. He was being too kind, too gentle, too sweet. It made me feel even worse about myself and the spectacle I had just made.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry.” It came out as a croak between coughs, catching in my throat. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, <em> I’m sorry, I - </em>”</p><p> </p><p>I had been on the edge of sobbing again when Brooklyn leaned forward, wrapping his arms and his wings around me. It was an awkward hug, my head practically tucked into his armpit. He positioned his hands oddly on my back, trying not to scratch me with his talons. His wings, when they were folded over his chest like a cloak, were more flexible than they were when he was flying. They draped over the edges of the crate next to my legs and came in tighter around my back, like a thin blanket of soft leather, his tri-claws clasped together behind me.</p><p> </p><p>“Melissa, it’s okay.” He carefully, gently ran a hand over my hair, stroking it a few times. His beak rested over my shoulder, and I could feel his throat vibrating when he talked. “You’re probably just...tired? Right?”</p><p> </p><p>I nodded my head, trying to stop more coughs and whimpers from coming.</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe,” he pulled away a little, loosening his hug so he could look at me, “you need to go get some sleep?”</p><p> </p><p>I knew I was being dismissed. I was being given a gracious exit, and I would never return to the clock tower. I was useless to them, and now, thanks to my outburst, I was unwelcome. Pathetic. Unstable. My chin and nose started scrunching up again as I tried to hold in the new wave of tears that was waiting for a chance to burst out.</p><p> </p><p>“And after you get some sleep, you’ll help us find Elisa.”</p><p> </p><p>I turned my head to look at him, still holding off my next round of sobs. He looked down at me, his face full of worry and kindness. <em> And sincerity </em>. My thoughts were weirdly eloquent given the fact that my nose was now stuffed full of snot that had turned sludgy and that I looked like an angry, wet potato with a sunburn. I nodded and hummed my agreement, not trusting myself to talk anymore in case the lurking sobs found their way out.</p><p> </p><p>He nodded his head. “Good. The clock tower isn’t the best place to catch some z’s, but maybe there’s a couch in the library?” He turned over his shoulder to look at Goliath, who nodded.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes...there’s a few couches, near the entrance…”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll just move one a little, make sure she doesn’t get woken up.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sounds like a good idea, Brooklyn,” Hudson intoned quietly. “Need some help?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.” He slowly scooped me up in his arms, rewrapping his wings around me once he fully stood up. My head hung against my chest, my face staying bright red. <em> Maybe as red as Brooklyn’s </em>, I thought again. He looked over the top of my head and addressed Hudson. “You get the doors and move the couch, I’ll carry her.”</p><p> </p><p>As he started walking towards the trapdoor, my eyes closed and I let myself sink into sleep.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Fifteen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Melissa wakes up from her nap and gets a history lesson from Brooklyn.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>I roused briefly to Brooklyn and Hudson’s voices, catching a piece of their conversation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You're not usually the gentle type, Brook.” Hudson was chuckling.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What was I supposed to do? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fight</span>
  </em>
  <span> her? I’m a loose cannon, not an </span>
  <em>
    <span>asshole</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” I could hear his voice rumble lightly through his chest, soft, trying not to wake me.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hudson chuckled again. “I don’t think ye’ want to fight her, lad. It seems to me that you want to </span>
  <em>
    <span>protect</span>
  </em>
  <span> her.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I felt myself being lowered down onto something soft and springy, then something warm was placed over me.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” A taloned hand gently stroked my hair. “But, that’s not a bad thing. Is it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I fell back asleep before I could hear Hudson’s response.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I wasn’t sure how long I had been asleep, but I woke up to find myself on a couch that had been pushed behind the Circulation Desk in the branch of the NYPL at the Civic Center. The large, half-circle desk and the tall stacks close to the door hid me from view. Somehow, either Brooklyn or Hudson had been able to find a well-loved knit blanket to lay on top of me. I woke up just a little too warm, my face feeling swollen and my eyes itchy from my unstable display earlier that night.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I sat up and looked around, scratching my scalp through my messy hair and pulling the hair-tie back out of it to re-do my quick bun.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, you’re awake!” Brooklyn’s voice came from somewhere up above me. I looked up at one of the stacks closest to me and saw him sitting on top of it, one leg swinging down, wings wrapped around himself, a book in his hands. Several books and magazines lay stacked next to him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>How long have I been out?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I sniffled, trying to clear my nose from the last remnants of the ‘snot-faucet’ part of my ugly crying. While I didn’t like it, I wasn’t one to shy away from calling myself an ugly cryer, especially when I was exhausted. It’s hard to hide ugly crying in the first place, so I always thought it was better to claim it than hide it. That didn’t mean that I </span>
  <em>
    <span>liked</span>
  </em>
  <span> ugly crying in front of other people. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Especially</span>
  </em>
  <span> in front of people I was trying to befriend.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I stretched my arms, legs, and back, unable to hold off a full-body stretch after my nap. “How long was I out?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“About 2 hours. Did you know that you </span>
  <em>
    <span>groan</span>
  </em>
  <span> in your sleep?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” I sighed. “It only happens when I’m really, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> tired.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He closed the book in his hands and crawled down the shelves of the stack like it was a ladder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know you’re going to have to bring those down from there, right?” I pointed back up at the books on top of the shelf.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not done with them yet,” he said offhandedly. “Doesn’t seem like anyone’s missed them so far.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But it ruins the circulation numbers!” I pushed off the couch and walked over to the computers behind the Circulation Desk, pushing the ‘on’ button on one of the ones farthest from the doors.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brooklyn looked at me, incredulous. “Is that </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> what matters? Right now?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” I admitted, waiting for the computer to start up. “But I want to do it anyway. Doing something normal would be good for me.” I looked over to him and nodded back up to the top of the stack.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sighed and climbed the shelves again, bringing the whole armload down. He brought them over to the desk and I checked them out to “temporary patron BKLYN,” stamping the checkout card and placing them in the back pocket of each book and magazine. He hauled them back to the top of his ‘reading spot’ while I shut the computer back down.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He hopped down from the last few shelves as I went to sit back on the couch. “Feeling better now?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I tilted my head. “Yeah, I think so. I think I was just really tired. And I’m sorry for yelling at you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You do that a lot,” he observed, sitting on the counter of the Circulation Desk.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do what a lot? Say ‘sorry?’”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but you also do that head-tilt thing.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” I usually did it when I was thinking, tilting my head to look down at the floor so I could concentrate. I didn’t realize I did it so much that someone who had only just met me would take notice. “Sorry.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why do you say that you’re ‘sorry’ so much? You know not everything is your fault, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I leaned back on the couch, resting my head to look up at the ceiling. The tall windows behind me let in the city lights, and the little bit of moonlight that was able to get through them. “I’ve always felt like ‘I’m sorry’ meant so many things other than just ‘it was my fault and I regret it.’ For example, saying it to someone who’s lost a loved one isn’t taking the blame for their death, it’s more like communicating ‘I see that you’re in pain, this must be so hard for you, I want to recognize your situation and show you that it matters to me.’ But with less words.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Brooklyn said doubtfully.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Or, think of it like this,” I sat up to look at him, glad to be doing another normal thing: answering a question from someone, trying to help them understand something they didn’t know. “If you’re in a fight with someone, and they say something mean, and you respond with ‘I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>SORRY?!</span>
  </em>
  <span>’” I mimicked the response to the imaginary argument. “You’re not </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> ‘sorry,’ you’re actually kind of challenging the other person, daring them to acknowledge that they </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> meant the mean thing they said.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, that’s definitely not the same as taking the blame. Makes sense. Kind of.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think there’s a lot of power in owning an ‘I’m sorry’ in most situations. I guess that’s why I never regret saying it.” I let a small smile touch my lips. “And that’s probably why I say it so much.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, what did that ‘I’m sorry’ mean when you were, uh…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...Weeping uncontrollably?” I was embarrassed, but it was a fair question.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He nodded. I tried to explain.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“In my job, I’m supposed to be calm, cool, and collected 100% of the time. No matter how much a patron is yelling at me, and no matter how tired or upset I am, I’m supposed to at least </span>
  <em>
    <span>appear</span>
  </em>
  <span> in control of myself.” I sighed. “My coworker made me really angry this morning, and I wasn’t able to let go of it. On top of that, I haven’t been sleeping, and I’ve been downing coffee to try to stay awake, which is always a bad idea in the long run.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>And</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” He narrowed his eyes at me. He had only known me for four nights, but he seemed comfortable calling out my attempt to skim over the last contribution to my breakdown.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And...I was upset at the idea that I wouldn’t be allowed to come back to the clock tower if you guys didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>need</span>
  </em>
  <span> me.” I rubbed my hands over my face, trying to think of the right words. “It’s only been a few nights since we’ve met, and we’re all focusing on finding Elisa. Which we </span>
  <em>
    <span>should be</span>
  </em>
  <span>! But if I don’t have anything to contribute to finding Elisa, then why would you guys want me around? I’d just be getting in your way, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looked at me for a few seconds, then raised one of his brow bones, the way someone with the facial muscles for it could raise an eyebrow for dramatic effect or emphasis. “You know that you don’t have to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>needed</span>
  </em>
  <span> by your friends to </span>
  <em>
    <span>be</span>
  </em>
  <span> friends, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I...I guess…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brooklyn moved to sit on the couch arm opposite from me. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Face-to-face</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I remembered, thinking back to my awkward attempts at crouching to talk to him the second night we met. I wondered if he was trying to stay at the same level, for my sake.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Look, we </span>
  <em>
    <span>like</span>
  </em>
  <span> you. We want you to visit us at the clock tower. But you’re right, we need to focus on finding Elisa right now. That doesn’t mean we don’t need your help, but you’ve got to know that you’re allowed to be friends with us even</span>
  <em>
    <span> after</span>
  </em>
  <span> we find Elisa. Okay?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I smiled, but I felt tired again. “Okay.” I sat up straighter, remembering something else. “Hey, while it’s just you and me, you were going to tell me what Goliath has against Xanatos at some point? Is that the entire Xanatos Corporation, or David Xanatos himself?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brooklyn snarled, baring his teeth. His very </span>
  <em>
    <span>sharp</span>
  </em>
  <span> teeth. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Xanatos</span>
  </em>
  <span>. We </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> have a grudge against him, and anything he touches. Anything with the Xanatos name on it, anything to do with Xanatos </span>
  <em>
    <span>at all</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you can’t trust it, okay?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>From what I had read and heard, David Xanatos was a titan of industry, an entrepreneur, inventor, and investor. He was wealthy, but, according to my limited knowledge, seemed humble. He had been in prison a few years ago, but it seemed like something to do with his merchandise than with him. At least, that was what I thought.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Xanatos stole our home from us,” Brooklyn continued bitterly. “He took our home, then he kicked us out. And he’s attacked us. </span>
  <em>
    <span>AND</span>
  </em>
  <span> he’s tried to clone us, </span>
  <em>
    <span>AND</span>
  </em>
  <span> sent goons to attack us on his behalf, </span>
  <em>
    <span>AND</span>
  </em>
  <span>-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Attacks?!” I interrupted him. Xanatos was starting to sound like a TV villain, just as Broadway’s explanation for Talon had sounded like an episode plot. “Wait, start over. How did he steal your home?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brooklyn grumbled but began again. “We’re from Scotland originally, right? Well, we protected a castle, Castle Wyvern, because it was our home. We lived with humans there, kind of in peace. Actually, not really in peace. The humans didn’t trust us, so we didn’t trust them. During a huge battle, one of the humans from the castle betrayed us, along with one of our own.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His face turned dark and bitter. This was an old hurt, and a deep one.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Most of our clan was destroyed in a surprise attack, while we were sleeping.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You mean...they broke the gargoyles while they were in statue form?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” Brooklyn’s voice started to turn acidic. “Then another human from the castle </span>
  <em>
    <span>cursed</span>
  </em>
  <span> us to stone sleep ‘until Castle Wyvern rose above the clouds’ or something like that. And we had been </span>
  <em>
    <span>helping </span>
  </em>
  <span>them!” The snarl crept back over his face. “We were asleep for </span>
  <em>
    <span>one thousand years</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait...you’re over a thousand years old?!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He snorted. “Kind of. We didn’t age while we were cursed. We’ve been around for over a thousand years, but we’re not </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> that old. At least not physically.” He knocked his chest with his fist as he said it, emphasizing the curse’s effect.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So if you were at a castle in Scotland, and you were in a sleeping curse...how did you end up in New York?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s where </span>
  <em>
    <span>Xanatos</span>
  </em>
  <span> comes in. He bought Castle Wyvern and had it moved to the top of his tower.” I could have smacked myself on the forehead. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Of course! Everyone knows he bought a castle a few years ago, I can’t believe I didn’t make the connection</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brooklyn continued. “He had heard about the curse in a magic book - The Grimorum Arcanorum,” again, bitterness colored his words. “He decided to buy the castle and literally ‘raise it above the clouds.’ He had enough money to do it. So the curse was broken, and we woke up in New York.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But then he kicked you out of Castle Wyvern?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not at first. He ‘let us stay,’” Brooklyn made quotation marks in the air with his talons, “because it was our home. But soon he was testing weapons out on us, building robots that looked like Goliath, we had to </span>
  <em>
    <span>fight</span>
  </em>
  <span> just to stay in our home. Elisa was the one who brought us to the clock tower.” He shook his head angrily. “Xanatos kept trying to say that we were welcome at the castle at any time, but I hate going back there. It just reminds me that it’s not our home anymore.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wow, Brooklyn. I can’t imagine how awful that is…” I almost added an ‘I’m sorry,’ but I stopped myself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, well, it hasn’t stopped just because we moved into the clock tower. We still face off with Xanatos. A </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” He started grumbling again. “The worst is when we have to </span>
  <em>
    <span>side with him</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Against mutual enemies?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” He went quiet, getting lost in thought.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’m glad you told me. I had no idea what went on behind the scenes. He has a completely different reputation in public.” I searched for another direction to take our conversation in, since Brooklyn seemed agitated after talking about Xanatos. But I was curious about something else he had mentioned. “You said ‘one of your own’ betrayed you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He glared, turning to face the window. “Yeah. She betrayed us at the castle. And she betrayed us when we woke up. And she </span>
  <em>
    <span>keeps</span>
  </em>
  <span> betraying us. She may be a gargoyle, but she’s not ‘one of our own.’ Not anymore.” The anger and bitterness in his voice had doubled, and I could tell that unlike the clan’s dealings with Xanatos, the betrayal he felt from this other gargoyle was </span>
  <em>
    <span>personal</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t know there were female gargoyles…” I tried to distract him, to direct him towards gargoyles in general.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh, of </span>
  <em>
    <span>course</span>
  </em>
  <span> there are female gargoyles. Where did you think we came from?” The distraction was working.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um, magic, maybe?” The look on his face told me I was </span>
  <em>
    <span>dead</span>
  </em>
  <span> wrong. “Okay, not magic?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He rolled his eyes. “We hatch out of eggs. Females and males join, the female has an egg, and then the egg hatches.” He raised a brow bone again, this time paring it with a smirk. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I tilt my head a lot, but he sure </span>
  </em>
  <span>smirks</span>
  <em>
    <span> a lot</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “I don’t have to explain ‘the birds and the bees’ to you, do I?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ugh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>no</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” It was my turn to roll my eyes. “I’m an educated woman living in New York City in the 90’s. I know about ‘the birds and the bees,’ and I understand what ‘joining’ implies.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He raised his hands in a shrug. “I was just making sure,” he said, pretending to be nonchalant. I could tell he was, once again, amused by me. I stood up, folding the blanket and placing it on the couch.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can fill me in on gargoyle family structures next time. We should probably head back up to the clock tower with the others.” I went to my side of the couch, ready to lift it and move it back to wherever it had come from.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He lifted his side and we moved it back near the entrance of the library, but before I could start for the doors he stopped me.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Melissa, you were able to get a little sleep, but it’s not going to be enough.” I was getting ready to argue when he held his hand up. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> it’s not enough. You should go home and get some </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span> sleep. In a </span>
  <em>
    <span>bed</span>
  </em>
  <span>, instead of on a library couch.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I sighed, ending it with a yawn. “Fine. You’re right.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m always right.” It was my turn to raise my eyebrows at him. I, unfortunately, didn’t have the muscle in my face to let me raise just one eyebrow, but two eyebrows could work just as well as one. “I mean, I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>almost</span>
  </em>
  <span> always right.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sure you are,” I teased. He started heading towards the back of the library, presumably to a window that actually opened so he could climb back to the clock tower.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Brooklyn?” He turned back to me. “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He smiled. “I’m sorry,” he said. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a wink. A </span>
  <em>
    <span>wink</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Nope. That was bad, wasn’t it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That was </span>
  <em>
    <span>terrible</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Broadway’s the one who does bad jokes, remember?” I laughed quietly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’m more of a ‘cool one-liner’ kind of guy. Give me a second, I’ll think of one…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Goodnight</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Brooklyn.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, I’ll have one tomorrow night!” He called softly, so his voice wouldn’t carry too far.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I shook my head and reached for the handle on the library’s main door, ready to crawl into bed and get some real sleep.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Sixteen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Remember the cassette tape that Clara had? Because Jack finally did!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I remembered to call ahead to work, leaving messages on both Clara’s and my supervisor’s phones that I would come in for a half-day around noon. Brooklyn <em> was </em> right. I desperately needed some good sleep, and that would only come from being undisturbed in my comfortable, familiar bed.</p><p> </p><p>I woke up to my alarm at 10:30, earlier than I would have <em> really </em> liked to be awake, and took my time getting ready. I took a hot shower, letting my hair air-dry into inconsistent waves while I made myself <em> decaf </em> coffee and a <em> real </em> breakfast. I made a huge, messy breakfast sandwich with an everything bagel, a fried egg, a slice of pastrami crisped up in the pan, topped with a slice of sharp cheddar cheese. I read that day’s newspaper, deciding to recycle the rest unread. </p><p> </p><p>I chose my most comfortable dress and sweater to wear to work. Sweaters always seemed like a stereotype for librarians, but in this case they were necessary: no matter what the temperature outside was like, the Main Branch was always freezing. Sweaters weren't a matter of stereotype, but survival. I put on just enough makeup to make me look on the peppier side of awake. If I had taken the time to cover up every pimple and flaw, it would have taken me at least an hour to do my makeup properly. Instead, I put on bright red lipstick and used minimal everything-else. When you put on lipstick, especially red lipstick, people tend to ignore the rest of your face and <em> assume </em> you’ve done a full face of makeup. It saves a <em> lot </em> of time, time that I usually spend rushing to get to work on time.</p><p> </p><p>It all seemed tedious and simple compared to the exciting last few days - and nights. But I tried to enjoy taking my time doing something normal. I even tried to make it feel luxurious, letting myself drift around my apartment instead of running to get ready like I normally did. When I finally headed out to work, I dreaded walking into the office. It wasn’t the first time I had dreaded going in, which was usually reserved for catch-up days or when I was miserably sick. Today was the first time that I dreaded it because of one of my coworkers.</p><p> </p><p>I brought an apology present, like I always did. It was one I had been saving up for a long time, since Jack and I almost never fought and I hadn’t had a reason to give it to him yet. I walked into a silent office, both Jack and Clara working diligently on their day’s sources.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, guys.” </p><p> </p><p>“Melissa,” Clara said, looking up from her work and smiling. “Glad you’re feeling better.”</p><p> </p><p>Jack glanced at the door when I came in, then went right back to his work without saying a word.</p><p> </p><p>This was going to be a tough day.</p><p> </p><p>I set my things down, trying to decide my course of action. I hadn’t ever had to apologize to Jack before. I knew he was going to like the peace offering I brought him, but I had to do it right. The silence stretched for a very full, very <em> tense </em> 5 minutes</p><p> </p><p>“Jack, I-”</p><p> </p><p>“Melissa,” Clara interrupted, turning in her chair, eyes boring into the back of Jack’s neck. “<em> Jack </em> has something he’d like to say. Even if he’s not mature enough to say it <em> without </em> being prompted.”</p><p> </p><p>He sighed, shoulders slumping, and turned his chair around.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Fine </em>. Melissa. I’m sorry I got so angry yesterday. I was really worried about Clara’s safety, and I took it out on you. But you could have waited to ask her-”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> JACK. </em>” Clara glared at him. “What did we discuss?”</p><p> </p><p>He sighed again. “A good apology doesn’t have a ‘but’ in it.”</p><p> </p><p>“So, would you like to try that again?”</p><p> </p><p>I tried to end Jack’s suffering. “No, really, it’s okay-”</p><p> </p><p>Clara turned her glare to me. “No, Melissa. It is not ‘okay.’ Saying ‘it’s okay’ when someone does something <em> mean </em> ,” she glanced over to Jack then back to me, “makes it seem like the other person is <em> allowed </em> to treat you like that. They’re <em> not </em> . Now,” she sat back, her hands in her lap, “Jack, you are going to apologize to Melissa <em> properly </em> , and Melissa, you’re going to accept Jack’s apology <em> without </em> saying ‘it’s okay.’ Jack, you first.”</p><p> </p><p>Jack’s shoulders slumped even more. “Melissa, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I’m really, <em> really </em> sorry.” And he looked sorry, to his credit. He looked apologetic, and <em> tired </em>. Maybe as tired as I was last night.</p><p> </p><p>“Jack, thank you. I accept your apology.” Then I threw his present at his head.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> WHOAH! </em> ” He turned so it hit his shoulder. “Melissa, <em> what the hell </em>?!” He picked the rolled up bit of fabric off the floor where it landed and started to unroll it. “What is this?”</p><p> </p><p>I smiled. “It’s your new favorite tie.”</p><p> </p><p>He rolled his eyes. “Melissa, I do not wear ties. Ties aren’t edgy enough for a rebel like me.” <em> That’s the Jack I know </em>, I thought happily. I motioned for him to fully unwrap the tie.</p><p> </p><p>What looked like little red dots lined up in neat rows over the black fabric.</p><p> </p><p>“It...it’s an ordinary tie.”</p><p> </p><p>“Take a closer look!”</p><p> </p><p>He looked more closely at the tie, holding it up to his eye.</p><p> </p><p>“Melissa...you perfect little <em> punk </em>, you!”</p><p> </p><p>I laughed. “See, I <em> told </em> you it would be your new favorite tie!” The little red dots, when looked at closely, were the red-circle-and-A symbol for anarchy. Small enough to be appropriate for work, but still what Jack would consider ‘rebellious.’ “I think you’d call it ‘stealthily appropriate?’”</p><p> </p><p>Jack draped his new tie around his neck, then stood up and spread his arms wide. “Bring it in, Melissa! Clara, you too!”</p><p> </p><p>We stood in the middle of our office a little awkwardly, arms around each other, Jack crushing us both with his surprisingly strong arms. He released us with a happy sigh. “Alright, team! Now that we’ve all made up, it’s time to examine more evidence in…” He gestured to the information wall with a grand flourish. “<em> THE CURIOUS CASE OF THE MISSING LIBRARIANS! </em>”</p><p> </p><p>It was just like Jack to move on from a touching moment as quickly as possible, but both Clara and I could appreciate that in a moment like this. Besides, he was right. It was time to get to work.</p><p> </p><p>“I know you both probably thought I <em> forgot </em> , and I totally did yesterday, but <em> today </em>, I remembered to bring it!” He pulled a rectangular object out of the backpack he used as a work bag. “Ta-dah! My tape player!”</p><p> </p><p>My eyes went wide. “That’s right! We can listen to Clara’s interview with the Police Commissioner and the Library President!”</p><p> </p><p>Jack held up the cassette tape, waving it around. “Now we can see what Clara went through all the trouble to <em> secretly </em> record!”</p><p> </p><p>Clara remained serious. “I don’t remember a lot of it, but I <em> do </em> remember being severely disappointed afterwards.”</p><p> </p><p>“We’ll see what we can get from the interview. Hopefully this will give us another lead,” I sat and took out my notebook, ready to write out any relevant information.</p><p> </p><p>We listened to the interview at least three times, Clara telling us what she remembered as the cassette played.</p><p> </p><p>Jack rewound the cassette for our fourth listen-through. As the cassette was rewinding, he mused aloud. “You know, it’s kind of strange that both the Commissioner <em> and </em> the Library President were there. The Commissioner makes sense, but why the Library President?”</p><p> </p><p>“I remember President Harding saying that he wanted to be there ‘for support.’ I don’t think he had ever even <em> seen </em> me until that interview…”</p><p> </p><p>I looked at my notebook. “So you were in an interrogation room with both the NYPL President, Connor Harding, and the then NYC Police Commissioner, Benjamin Kelly, supposedly to have some sort of ‘final interview?’”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.” A flash of anger crossed Clara’s face.</p><p> </p><p>“You know, that’s been bothering me.” Jack pretended to look closely at the tape player, but we could both tell that his casual tone of voice was covering for a question that was going to be anything but casual. “How long was it before they called her case ‘inactive?’”</p><p> </p><p>“About two months. And they may have declared it ‘inactive,’ but everytime I call in to check on the status of the case, they call it a <em> cold case </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>I shook my head. “That’s not enough time for a case to go ‘cold.’ It’s just ridiculous.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s <em> more </em> than ridiculous. It’s got bigotry smeared all over it.” Jack and I stayed quiet, waiting for Clara to go on. Neither of us had ever gone through the kinds of frustrations and roadblocks Clara experienced over the course of <em> her </em> life.</p><p> </p><p>Clara took the red bandana that Jack had given her and began twisting it in her hands. “Fatimah had <em> three </em> traits that police are more than happy to use as a reason to overlook a victim: she was a woman, she was a woman <em> of color </em> , and she was married to another <em> woman </em> .” She twisted the bandana harder, starting to pull it in opposite directions. “They never <em> said </em> they knew, but even though I didn’t tell them outright, they saw my wedding ring. And I didn’t have a husband ‘accompany’ me to the interview. They never even <em> asked </em> about a husband. They even called me ‘ <em> Ms </em> .’ not ‘ <em> Mrs. </em>’”</p><p> </p><p>I reached over to squeeze her hand, partially to stop her from twisting the bandana into pieces, and partially to try and show her we were listening. She deserved to be listened to.</p><p> </p><p>“This must be really painful for you, Clara. I’m really thankful - and <em> proud </em> - that you’re facing all of this head-on to help find Elisa.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sure,” she shook her head and clicked her tongue. “But I’m only partially doing it for your friend. I’ve said it before, and I will say it again: I want to take down the bastard who took my wife from me.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Hell </em> yeah, Clara! We’ll get him, or her, or them, or <em> whoever </em> it is! And we’ll make sure Fatimah gets <em> JUSTICE </em>.” Jack was passionate, and I imagined that he’d happily take a crowbar to the kidnapper’s knee caps. Given enough anger, that is.</p><p> </p><p>“What’s something you miss about her, Clara?” We might never get to meet Fatimah, especially since it had been three years since her disappearance, but I wanted to know about her. For Clara.</p><p> </p><p>“I miss her mujadara,” she sighed. “It was simple, rice, lentils, and some kind of blend of spices, but it was <em> delicious </em> . Really it was the only meal she could cook successfully on her own.” She laughed. “Everything else she cooked was either ridiculously bland, or <em> way </em> too salty! I was the cook most of the time. She was the baker, though. Her warbat was <em> delicious </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“Warbat?” I was woefully undereducated when it came to cuisine.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s like baklava, but it has something similar to custard as the main filling. She added in pistachios to hers.”</p><p> </p><p>“Be still, my beating tastebuds,” Jack sighed. “That sounds <em> delightful </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Clara smiled. “It was. Thank you for asking, Melissa. My memories of cooking and baking with her in our kitchen, they’re precious.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m glad you shared them with us,” I responded quietly.</p><p> </p><p>“Alright, ladies. Are you ready for another listen?” Jack held up the tape player, finger poised over the play button.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, but I’d like to concentrate on one particular part.” I looked through my notes. “There’s a part where Harding and Kelly are talking to Clara about the Persons of Interest in the case. You were right, Jack, that it’s weird for Harding to be in the interview. But this part seems especially weird.”</p><p> </p><p>We waited, listening through the tape until it reached the part of the tape we were looking for. Jack read out the time on the digital screen, so we could replay it from the exact point if we needed to.</p><p> </p><p><em> [Clara] Chief Kelly, I want to know if you have any suspects in Fatimah’s case. I </em> deserve <em> to know if there are any suspects. </em> Clara’s voice was firm, but it was clear she was frustrated. This was about halfway through the entire interview.</p><p> </p><p><em> [Kelly] Ms. Reynolds, I’ve already told you, I </em> cannot <em> tell you if we have suspects. I </em> could <em> tell you about the Persons of Interest we have, but we don’t have any. </em>The Commissioner didn’t try to hide his aggravation. Clara had been grilling him for over fifteen minutes at this point.</p><p> </p><p><em> [Harding] And, if I may, Chief Kelly? </em> There was a brief pause, where Kelly had nodded, according to Clara. <em> ‘Persons of Interest’ means ‘people who might have information to help with the case.’ If there aren’t any Persons of Interest, a case can’t move forward. You can’t expect the police to make progress without any Persons of Interest </em> . His tone was condescending and pedantic, like he was telling an annoying kindergartener what color the  sky is ‘yet again.’ <em> Clara, may I call you Clara? </em></p><p> </p><p><em> [Clara] I prefer ‘Ms. Reynolds,’ President Harding. </em> We heard a tsk, from Harding.</p><p> </p><p><em> [Harding] Very well. </em> Ms. <em> Reynolds, </em> he emphasized her prefix, <em> you’re going to have to be prepared for the likelihood that your </em> friend’s <em> case might go cold. It might </em> never <em> be solved. Are you prepared for that? </em></p><p> </p><p>There was silence on the tape. Clara remembered gripping her hands tightly in her lap, her knuckles popping and circulation cutting off from her fingers. Someone cleared their throat. She believed it had been Chief Kelly.</p><p> </p><p><em> [Kelly] Ms. Reynolds, I’m afraid President Harding’s right. But let me assure you, we’re not giving up. We’ll look into whatever leads come our way. I just can’t tell you when those leads will come in. If ever. Now, </em> a sigh came over the recording, <em> do you have any </em> other <em> questions? </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> [Clara] Yes. Tell me about the provenance of the evidence you’ve gathered. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> [Kelly] The providence? </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em> [Harding] No, the </em> provenance <em> . It’s a librarian’s way of saying the Chain of Custody. </em> Harding had also used his condescending and pedantic voice on Commissioner Kelly.</p><p> </p><p>We stopped the tape, and I marked the end time of that portion of the interview.</p><p> </p><p>“I think it’s safe to say that Kelly and Harding were in on something they refused to tell you, Clara. So, what was ‘weird’ to you about that part, Melissa?” Jack asked, leaning in conspiratorially.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s the fact that they don’t have <em> any </em> suspects <em> or </em> Persons of Interest.” I tried to pick through my brain, following the lines of doubt that my mind was trying to send out. “It’s unfortunate to say, but from the sources we’ve been evaluating, plus Clara’s warnings over the years, plus what we’ve seen just living in New York, it seems like kidnappings aren’t all that <em> uncommon </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> That’s </em> where the bigotry comes in!” Clara said angrily, almost sneering. Sneers were totally out of place on her face, but I couldn’t blame her.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re right, but I think there’s even more.” I stood and went to our wall of information, reading over the notes. “We’ve at least got David Xanatos as a potential suspect, according to my friends. Kidnappings, both individual and kidnapping rings, have been solved in the past.” I turned back to Jack and Clara. “It’s literally <em> impossible </em> for them to claim that they don’t even have any Persons of Interest when they’ve caught kidnappers in the past. Kidnappers they could <em> question for leads </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“Put that on the wall! Put it up there <em> now </em>!” Jack got a feverish look in his eye, excited for our breakthrough.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, how do I say it, exactly?”</p><p> </p><p>“Put up there, ‘Possible P.o.I.’s: kidnappers, kidnapping rings’ in the Leads section” Clara took a piece of paper on her desk and began to write furiously. “Then, put this,” she held out the piece of paper, “under Evidence.”</p><p> </p><p>I looked at what she had written, reading it out loud: “NYPL President and Police Commissioner conspired to dismiss the case as cold without investigation of potential P.o.I.’s. Failed to disclose P.o.I.’s identities.” I looked up to Clara. “Clara, are you sure you want to bring in ‘conspiracy’ to this?”</p><p> </p><p>She bristled. “A librarian goes missing every four years, and the police <em> and </em> the NYPL don’t want it investigated, and you <em> dare </em> to ask me if I want to call it a <em> conspiracy </em>?!”</p><p> </p><p>Jack looked at me as if I had two heads. “Melissa, need we remind you? Watergate? The Tuskegee Experiment? The Manhattan Project? Conspiracies aren’t always just <em> theories </em> , sometimes they’re <em> real </em>!”</p><p> </p><p>I blushed but held my ground. “If we call this a conspiracy, people might not take us seriously.” They both glared at me angrily, about to start arguing. “We heard on the tape! They <em> already </em> wanted to dismiss Fatimah’s case, yes, because they wanted to cover something up, but also because she was a lesbian woman of color! Clara, you’ve told us over and over again that things in New York aren’t good for women of color. Would attaching the word ‘conspiracy’ to Fatimah’s case <em> really </em> be helping get it solved, or would people be <em> that much more willing </em> to dismiss it?”</p><p> </p><p>Clara’s eyes began filling with frustrated tears. I hoped that what I was trying to say made some semblance of sense.</p><p> </p><p>“Fine,” Clara whispered.</p><p> </p><p>“Clara, I’m not saying this <em> isn’t </em> a conspiracy. I wholeheartedly believe there’s a 99% chance that it <em> is </em>. But we need evidence to prove it’s a full-blown conspiracy, and I want to make sure that anyone we show this to, who would look for any excuse to write us off, can’t do it by assuming we’re ‘conspiracy theory crackpots.’”</p><p> </p><p>Clara held her hand out for the piece of paper. I handed it back to her, and she reluctantly erased ‘conspired to’ and added -’ed’ to ‘dismiss.’ “Does ‘NYPL President and Police Commissioner <em> dismissed </em> the case as cold’ work?”</p><p> </p><p>I took the paper back and decisively pinned it to the wall. “Absolutely.”</p><p> </p><p>We all stood to gaze at the wall of information we had collected. </p><p> </p><p>Then Jack grabbed another piece of paper and scribbled something on it, pinning it violently to the Leads section. “We should start with <em> him </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>He had written <em> Tony Dracon </em>.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Seventeen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>We find out more about Jack, and Melissa gets some culinary advice.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After hearing what Jack had to say about Tony Dracon, I immediately called up Matt and had him come to our office so Jack could explain it to him firsthand. I met him in the lobby and walked him back towards our office. Matt was quiet, seemingly lost in thought.</p><p> </p><p>We entered the office, and I introduced Detective Bluestone to Clara and Jack.</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, nice to meet you, <em> Talon </em>.” Jack stuck out his hand and grinned. “Melissa let your nickname slip, but it’s a pretty badass one. You should be proud!”</p><p> </p><p>Matt looked at me, and I shrugged my shoulders. He took Jack’s hand and shook it anyways. “You can just call me Matt, or Detective Bluestone if you want to be more formal.”</p><p> </p><p>Jack seemed disappointed. “So, <em> not </em> ‘Talon?’”</p><p> </p><p>“No. It, uh, isn’t a nickname that I <em> like </em> very much. I wouldn’t have picked it if it were up to me,” he smiled a little. Maybe Matt would have chosen a different name if <em> he </em> had become a mutate. “Sorry to disappoint! But it’s good to meet you, Jack. You too, Clara. I don’t know if Melissa told you, but I was the one who asked her to call you really late the other night.”</p><p> </p><p>Clara nodded. “She told me, but I’m glad that waking me up at 4am ended up helping you in the long run.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, I’m sorry about that. But the information you gave her really <em> did </em> help the investigation! And from what Melissa told me, it looks like you’re going to help us even more.” He looked over at Jack, who straightened his new tie.</p><p> </p><p>“As much as I <em> dislike </em> helping the Establishment, I am dedicated to doing what I <em> must </em> to keep my fellow librarians safe.” Jack ambled over to the information wall and pointed dramatically at the piece of paper he had pinned up. “ <em> This </em>, Detective Bluestone, is your new lead!”</p><p> </p><p>Matt nodded and put his hand on his chin, examining the wall. “I wouldn’t put it past Dracon to do something to Elisa. He’s tried taking her out in the past. But what makes you so sure that Dracon has something to do with all the other librarians?”</p><p> </p><p>“We don’t know how long this has been going on, right? But the Dracons have been running shady enterprises here in New York City for a long time. And, like Melissa pointed out, this has been going on long enough and <em> consistently </em> enough that we could easily be dealing with a whole librarian kidnapping <em> ring </em> . Who would better know <em> exactly </em> who runs the kidnapping rings than the shadiest mobster in the city?”</p><p> </p><p>“If he isn’t running them himself.” Matt took out his own spiral notebook and began jotting down notes. “So you think we should ask Dracon about kidnapping rings, see if he knows whether they’re connected to Elisa?”</p><p> </p><p>“And the other librarians,” Clara emphasized. “We want to find the person who’s responsible for <em> all </em> of the disappearances.”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course,” Matt nodded. He turned back to Jack. “But really, what made you think of Tony Dracon? Something to do with these?” He gestured to the sources piled on our desks.</p><p> </p><p>Jack started to look uncomfortable. “Partially, but, well…” He straightened his tie again. “I may have run in the same circles as Tony, once upon a time.”</p><p> </p><p>“Jack, are you serious? You used to be with the <em> mob </em>?” I had always thought Jack’s rebel appearance and attitude were more for looks, but maybe it ran deeper than that for him.</p><p> </p><p>“I was a runner.” Jack sat down in his chair, leaning his elbows on his knees and holding his folded hands to his lips. He almost looked like he was praying. “It’s like a glorified errand boy. I’d run messages, mostly. Sometimes I dropped off envelopes or packages. I never asked what I was delivering, and that made me a <em> great </em> runner. As long as I got to hang out with the other guys, I didn’t really care what I was doing. I could lie and tell myself I was just fighting the Establishment, the Man, the System, the...whatever. I was a kid who wanted to fight the world.”</p><p> </p><p>“So, how’d you get out? The Dracons don't let people leave their crew <em> alive </em>.” Matt was intensely focused on Jack.</p><p> </p><p>“I faked my death around 6 years ago.”</p><p> </p><p>I waited for Matt to roll his eyes, but instead, he nodded his head. “That’d be the best way to do it. Care to share your real name?”</p><p> </p><p>Jack shook his head, eyes lowering back to gaze at the floor. “I’d rather not...I’ve tried to leave all of that behind, including that name.”</p><p> </p><p>“I can respect that. So, how much do you think Dracon has to do with the disappearing librarians? Do you think he might know who to talk to, or do you think he <em> is </em> the person to talk to?”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s been long enough that if the Dracon group was responsible for it, even <em> I </em> would have known about it. But he would definitely know who to talk to.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay. Looks like we need to get in touch with Tony, then.” Matt stood up and offered his hand to Jack. “Thank you, Jack.”</p><p> </p><p>Jack shook Matt’s hand back. “I didn’t really do that much.” He smiled. “But I wouldn’t want to give the Establishment <em> too </em> much help.”</p><p> </p><p>“Right, right.” Matt turned to offer his hand to Clara. “And Clara, thank you for your help, too. Sorry again about listening in to your phone call.”</p><p> </p><p>She took his hand. “The next time you need me, Detective Bluestone, just call. At a <em> reasonable </em> hour, if possible.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll keep that in mind. Melissa, I’m going to head back to the precinct and look into what we’ve got on Dracon at the moment. With any luck, we can find an excuse to bring him in for questioning and see what he knows.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll stay here and finish up some of my work. I’m pretty far behind. For obvious reasons…” I looked over to my desk.</p><p> </p><p>Matt left the Main Branch and I spent the rest of the day going through some of the sources I was behind on. It felt poetic, ending the day with something utterly normal, just like the day had begun. I wanted to get back to the clock tower, but I needed the dose of normalcy to center myself. </p><p> </p><p>All three of us left work at the same time again, and I headed back to my apartment to change before going to the Civic Center. My heart felt lighter, and I was hopeful. We had a <em> real </em> lead, and hopefully we’d find Elisa sooner rather than later. Maybe even by tonight, if we were lucky.</p><p> </p><p>I walked up to my apartment and took my keys out, but as I reached out to unlock my door I froze, the hair on the back of my neck and along my arms standing straight up.</p><p> </p><p>The door was open. It wasn’t open enough to see into my apartment, but it <em> was </em> open.</p><p> </p><p>My heart pounded as I gently pushed the door, avoiding the handle and lock. It opened quietly. I opened it slowly, looking for any sign of movement, listening for any tell-tale footsteps or the rustling of fabric.</p><p> </p><p>Nothing.</p><p> </p><p>One heartbeat. Two. Three.</p><p> </p><p>I took a deep breath, heart pounding, and stepped inside my apartment.</p><p> </p><p>All of my pictures were gone. Every single one.</p><p> </p><p>On my kitchen table was a note, typed and unsigned.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Breakfast looked delicious. Try adding hot sauce next time. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>I ran.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Eighteen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The team splits up to find more leads, and Melissa thinks about her (literal) next move.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I sat in my downstairs neighbor’s apartment, waiting for Matt and the police to arrive. Janice and I didn’t know each other well, but I very literally ran into her as I fled my apartment, almost sending her sprawling across the floor. I started babbling about my apartment, talking too fast, breathing too fast, moving too fast. She was very patient, and sat me at her table with a glass of water while she called the police for me.</p><p> </p><p>Ten minutes later there was a knock on her door. I jumped and screamed, Janice’s cat Delilah falling off my lap and skittering out of the room. I saw Matt’s face and started crying, panic fully taking over. He sat me back down at the table while Janice got me another glass of water. Matt tried to fill me in on what was happening in my apartment upstairs. Something about fingerprints, but I could barely process what he was saying. Other officers came into Janice’s apartment, talking with Matt, and I continued to cry.</p><p> </p><p>Eventually, Matt led me to his police cruiser and took me to the precinct to make a report. I numbly went through the motions, telling them about my apartment, about discovering the break in, over and over again. All I could think about was the blank walls in my apartment and the note on my table.</p><p> </p><p>My pictures were gone, and with them went my peace of my mind, my sense of safety in my own home. The invader, whoever they were, left me fear and panic along with their note. </p><p> </p><p>How had they gotten into my apartment?</p><p> </p><p>Why had they taken <em> all </em> of my pictures?</p><p> </p><p>How had they seen my breakfast that day? </p><p> </p><p>How long have they been watching me?</p><p> </p><p>It was past 9 o’clock when I walked out of the 23rd precinct. I waited for Matt and we walked up to the clock tower in silence. The gargoyles would want to know about Dracon, according to Matt, and I had nowhere to go. I wasn’t going back to my apartment, especially not alone. Chief Chavez had offered to have Matt to accompany me, and had already posted officers to watch my apartment building.</p><p> </p><p>But I wasn’t going to go back tonight. I might <em> never </em> go back to my apartment. It wasn’t home anymore. ‘Home’ was safe, familiar, completely mine. That apartment was not my home, not anymore. I had lived there, it was full of my things, but I didn’t live there anymore. I couldn’t.</p><p> </p><p>Hudson and Bronx were waiting for us when we emerged into the main room.</p><p> </p><p>“Where’ve ye’ been?! Is there news on Elisa?!” Hudson stormed over. “The others went t’ look for you two, and Goliath’s been so worried I thought he’d start tearin’ the walls down!”</p><p> </p><p>Bronx had barked excitedly and dashed over with Hudson, but slowed as he reached me. He looked up at me, then started whining and whimpering, leaning up against me and nudging my hand with his head. </p><p> </p><p>It’s uncanny how animals - even gargoyle hounds - can pick up on distress with instinct alone.</p><p> </p><p>I knelt to the floor and folded my arms around Bronx, starting to cry again. I wish I hadn’t been crying so much over the past five days, but my life had shifted majorly in so many ways that I could barely keep up. I wanted to be brave and strong, but everything was happening too fast.</p><p> </p><p>Bronx licked the side of my face with his pointed tongue then leaned into my arms. It seemed like the closest he could get to hugging me back.</p><p> </p><p>Hudston stared at me, terrified. “Is...Is Elisa…”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> No </em>,” I heard Matt answer strongly. He led Hudson away from me to talk to him, but I could still hear their conversation. “We’ve got a lead, but something happened at Melissa’s apartment today. We’re combing the scene for clues, but...it’s really shaken her.”</p><p> </p><p>“What happened?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’d rather wait until everyone was back to explain. She shouldn’t have to hear her own story over and over again. She did enough of that down in the precinct.”</p><p> </p><p>By the time Goliath and the Trio returned to the clock tower, Matt and Hudson had led me to sit on one of the crates, with Bronx sitting with me, still leaning against my shoulder. I kept my arm around him, feeling a little reassured by his presence.</p><p> </p><p>Goliath saw the somber expressions on Matt and Hudson’s face, and whatever expression my own face wore. Color drained out of his lavender cheeks, immediately worried.</p><p> </p><p>“Is there news about Elisa? Is she -”</p><p> </p><p>“No, Goliath. We don’t have any news, but something’s happened. To Melissa.” Matt looked at me, and I stared back at him, exhausted.</p><p> </p><p>“What happened?! Did somebody hurt you?!” Brooklyn came closer, looking me over. “If someone hurt you, I <em> swear </em> I’ll track them down and make them wish they were never born!” He growled, fists clenched. His eyes started to turn pure white, and they glowed. At another time it probably would have frightened me, but I didn’t have any more fear to spare.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, we’ll get him!” Broadway joined in, adding his own growl, his eyes turning glowing white as well.</p><p> </p><p>“Whoa, whoa, <em> wait </em>! We should hear what happened first!” Lexington turned to look at me. “Melissa?”</p><p> </p><p>I tried to rally, to put myself together enough to tell them. “They took my pictures. They took them all. There was a note. I can’t go back. <em> I can’t </em>.” I started crying again, becoming incoherent. Bronx leaned into me harder, whining sadly.</p><p> </p><p>Lexington turned back to Matt. “Uh, Matt, can you tell us what’s going on?”</p><p> </p><p>The gargoyles moved to stand closer to Matt, except for Bronx and Brooklyn. Brooklyn edged closer, casting worried glances at me while trying to listen to Matt.</p><p> </p><p>“When Melissa got to her apartment this evening, the door was open. Someone broke into her apartment and took all of the pictures she had. <em> All </em> of them, framed photographs, paintings, pictures from her refrigerator. They were taken from all parts of her apartment, not just from the view of the front door. There were even some picture frames and photograph boxes she had stored in closets that the crime techs weren’t able to locate.”</p><p> </p><p>“So they rifled through her stuff?” Broadway asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe, but nothing else was disturbed. That’s not all, though. There was a note left on her kitchen table. It was typed out, plain paper, no signature. It indicated that whoever wrote the note has been watching Melissa, as recently as this morning. We suspect it was all done by one person, but we can’t be sure.”</p><p> </p><p>“And you guys don’t know who did it?” Lexington had tried to keep his voice calm, but panic crept in anyway. </p><p> </p><p>Matt shook his head. “Not yet. We’re still processing the scene but I’ve got a feeling that we won’t find much.”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you believe that whoever invaded Melissa’s apartment is the same person who has Elisa?” Goliath had his arms crossed and folded his wings into a cape. He seemed suddenly calm, like the sky before a storm.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s my assumption, yes.”</p><p> </p><p>“Elisa is still missing, and this kidnapper, this <em> invader </em>, is only growing bolder. Detective Bluestone, we must go on the offensive. Attacks like these will only escalate.”</p><p> </p><p>“I agree, and I’ve got a lead that I could use your help with. We need to speak with Tony Dracon, but the police don’t have any reasonable cause to pull him in for questioning right now. If we tried to pull him in, he could just go to ground, and we’d lose the lead.”</p><p> </p><p>Goliath nodded. “I will find him. Where will we question him?”</p><p> </p><p>Matt smiled grimly. “I have the perfect, newly-abandoned nightclub. He’ll be <em> very </em> familiar with it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Very well. Brooklyn, you’re with me. Broadway, Lexington, continue patrolling, and keep an eye out for Elisa. We still don’t know if she’s been taken out of the city or not.”</p><p> </p><p>“Uh, Goliath?” Brooklyn hurried over to him. “I think it’d be better if I stayed here with Melissa,” he said quietly, unaware that I could still hear him. “You know, in case whoever raided her apartment comes looking for her.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hudson and Bronx can stay with her.”</p><p> </p><p>“I really think <em> I </em> should stay.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why?”</p><p> </p><p>Brooklyn quickly glanced at me over his shoulder, then turned back to Goliath. “Look, if it was Elisa sitting over there scared out of her mind, <em> you </em> would want to stay with <em> her </em> . Let <em> me </em> stay with <em> Melissa </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Goliath regarded him for a long moment.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Please </em>?” Brooklyn must not use that word too often, because it seemed to take Goliath aback.</p><p> </p><p>Then he nodded. “Very well.” He turned to the other gargoyles. “Brooklyn will stay here. Broadway, you’re with me. Hudson, patrol the city with Lexington. Take Bronx with you and go by Melissa’s apartment.” He looked over at the hound leaning against me. “Maybe he’ll be able to pick up a scent from there and track it.”</p><p> </p><p>“We’ll have to be careful and avoid those lights.” Lex turned to Hudson and started strategizing on how they could approach the - my - apartment with Bronx and not be spotted. Goliath and Broadway went out to the balcony to begin their search for Tony Dracon.</p><p> </p><p>Matt came up to me. “I’ll head to the nightclub and wait for Goliath and Broadway. Are you going to be okay here, Melissa?”</p><p> </p><p>“Of <em> course </em> she’s going to be okay here! <em> I’ll </em> be here, I’ll make sure she’s okay.” Brooklyn sounded equal parts annoyed and confident. “There’s no way I’ll let anything happen to her.”</p><p> </p><p>Matt lifted his hands and backed up in mock surrender. “Okay, tough guy, I believe you, I just want to hear that from <em> Melissa </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>I sniffed and rubbed at my eyes. I tried to smile, but it felt fake, like I had painted it on. “I’ll be okay. I’ll just spend the time thinking about where I’m going to move by tomorrow.” I shivered, seeing the eerily blank walls of my current apartment in my mind.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t worry about that, I’m already working on it. I’ve got some...contacts...that could probably lend me a safe spot for a friend to stay in.”</p><p> </p><p>I looked from him to Brooklyn and back. “Could it be someplace near here? I think I’d feel safer being closer to the clock tower.”</p><p> </p><p>Matt nodded. “I’ll see what I can do. Just hang tight. I have a feeling that we’ll have a good lead by morning.” He turned and headed down to the janitor’s closet, leaving Brooklyn and I alone in the huge, empty room.</p><p>
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</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Nineteen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Three vignettes that make up the night: finding and questioning Tony Dracon, following a scent lead, and a beginning.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Goliath and Broadway spotted Tony Dracon’s car outside of a dance club in lower Manhattan. They followed the car once he and several bodyguards left the club, traveling north to a seedy warehouse district along the river.</p><p> </p><p>Goliath would have preferred to have Brooklyn with him for this mission. Brooklyn was fast and would have been able to snatch Tony up without being spotted. But Brooklyn had stayed at the clock tower to guard Melissa. Goliath thought about Brooklyn’s words.</p><p> </p><p>‘<em>If it was Elisa sitting over there scared out of her mind, </em>you<em> would want to stay with </em>her<em>.</em>’ Elisa was more than just a friend to the gargoyles, she was part of the clan, even though she was a human. Any of the others would have wanted to protect her, and had, on numerous occasions. As the leader of the clan, Goliath was bound to protect all its members. Elisa, being a human, was the most vulnerable, and despite the fact that she was a great warrior in her own right, she was still delicate compared to a gargoyle. But there were many times when he had wished to stay by her side rather than fulfill his duties as leader. A few of those times, he <em>had</em> chosen to stay with her.</p><p> </p><p>‘<em> Let </em> me <em> stay with </em>Melissa.’ Brooklyn was his second-in-command, who would take over as leader for the clan if anything should happen to Goliath. It made sense that he, too, would want to protect a vulnerable friend. But Hudson and Bronx would have been more than capable of protecting Melissa, and yet Brooklyn insisted on staying by her side. She couldn’t protect herself like Elisa could. Perhaps it was this extra vulnerability that made him want to stay with her? Surely that was it. He had compared his feelings about Melissa to Goliath’s feelings about Elisa. Feelings of responsibility. Of fondness.</p><p> </p><p>Goliath set aside his thoughts as he spied Tony Dracon outside of one of the derelict warehouses, speaking on a small portable phone. A ‘cellular phone,’ Elisa had informed him. He nodded to Broadway, positioned on the roof of another warehouse. Broadway had brought his ‘detective’s getup,’ a tan trench coat with a matching hat. Broadway donned his costume and climbed down the side of the warehouse.</p><p> </p><p>Loud sounds of ripping metal, breaking glass, screams, and gunshots erupted from the warehouse. Tony turned at the noise, then quickly ran in the opposite direction. Just as Goliath had known he would. He saw Broadway climb back up the warehouse then take a running jump, catching an updraft and gliding off into the night, continuing to draw the henchmen’s attention.</p><p> </p><p>Goliath spread his wings and stepped off the roof, silently gliding after the panicked Tony. He was easy to catch. Hopefully, he would be easy to question.</p><p> </p><p>Broadway had blindfolded Tony before they went to meet with Detective Bluestone at the site. Both Goliath and Broadway remembered the location well. Tony had captured Detective Bluestone and held him hostage in the nightclub’s basement while looking for treasure that had long-since been stolen. Tony had gone to jail, and yet had found a way to be released early. Human justice was strange.</p><p> </p><p>Broadway untied the blindfold after securing Tony to a chair with rope. Bright lamps were positioned to shine into Tony’s eyes, while casting Detective Bluestone, Goliath, and Broadway in shadow.</p><p> </p><p>Tony squinted his eyes against the light, then sighed, looking bored. “Alright, what do you want?”</p><p> </p><p>“What, no ‘who’s there?’ or even a ‘I know who you are!’ You must find yourself in this situation a lot, Tony Dracon.”</p><p> </p><p>“What can I say? I’m a popular guy to get a hold of. I have plenty of people looking to fill up my dance card. So let’s skip the dancing and get straight to dessert. What. Do. You. Want?”</p><p> </p><p>“Someone’s been taking one NYPL librarian every four years. I want their name.”</p><p> </p><p>Tony’s laugh was smug, his lip curled in a sneer. “And what makes you think I know <em> that </em> ? Do you <em> know </em> how many kidnappings happen in New York City <em> every day </em>?”</p><p> </p><p>He paused, squinting at the lights again, trying to see into the shadows. “Actually, I bet you know the exact number, Detective Matt Bluestone.”</p><p> </p><p>Detective Bluestone grunted, displeased. “I guess I should be flattered that you remember me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Aw, how could I forget? We had such a good time the last time we were here!”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, I was tied to a chair about to die, and you spent all this time and effort trying to crack a safe that had <em> nothing in it </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Tony’s sneer turned to a snarl, but he said nothing in response.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll ask you again, Tony: who’s been kidnapping librarians?”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not <em> me </em> , and if you try to pin it on me, I’ll make <em> sure </em> you regret it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Tony, Tony, <em> Tony </em> . I don’t want to pin it on <em> you </em> . I want <em> their </em> name.”</p><p> </p><p>“But we <em> could </em> make things <em> real nasty </em> for ya, if ya don’t co-operate!” Broadway cracked his knuckles and imitated detectives and police officers he had seen in movies and television programs. He was still wearing his costume.</p><p> </p><p>Tony squinted into the lights again. “Matthew, you didn’t tell me you brought a <em> friend </em>. But, that doesn’t sound like my ‘sugar.’” The way Tony said ‘sugar’ made Detective Bluestone’s skin crawl.</p><p> </p><p>“Do not call Detective Maza that,” Goliath warned from the darkness, a growl underneath his words.</p><p> </p><p>“Aw, but she <em> loves it </em> when I use her pet name.” Goliath's growl grew louder and deeper. As it continued, Tony began to grow nervous, shifting in his seat, pulling against the ropes. “Hey, cut it out, okay? That’s a great impression of, what, a tiger? But you can stop now.”</p><p> </p><p>Goliath continued to growl, and Tony began struggling against the ropes. “Come on, stop! Don’t tell me you’ve got some kind of big cat here, Bluestone?! What are you gonna do, <em>feed</em> <em>me</em> to it?!” Sweat broke out on his brow, pupils growing smaller as he desperately stared into the lights, trying to see who or what was behind them.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t worry, Tony. I don’t have a tiger or a lion here. Who I’ve got with me is <em> so much worse </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Tony began breathing rapidly, eyes shifting to try to see the shadows between the lights. “Okay, fine! Yeah, someone’s been taking librarians, but I don’t know who!” Goliath increased to a deafening roar, making Tony yelp in fear. “I swear <em> I DON’T KNOW THEIR NAME </em>!”</p><p> </p><p>Detective Bluestone motioned for Goliath to lower his voice. Goliath did, but kept his growl. “You don’t know their <em> name </em>. But...you know who they are?”</p><p> </p><p>“Y-yeah, something like that. They call themselves The Four Horsemen.”</p><p> </p><p>“You expect me to believe <em> that </em> ?” Detective Bluestone tisked. “That sounds like fantasy, Tony. I need something <em> real </em> to go on.”</p><p> </p><p>“Look, I’m <em> not </em> messing around. There’s a group called The Four Horsemen. Four guys, naming themselves after the ones in the Bible or something, I don’t know. They kidnap people, then they host this party somewhere in upstate New York. I don’t know what happens at those parties, I’ve never been.”</p><p> </p><p>“You know about the parties, but you’ve never been to one?”</p><p> </p><p>“The invitation is this cryptic puzzle. I don’t have time or men to waste on solving puzzles. Besides, I stick to the classic crimes, updated for the times. If I <em> was </em> going to kidnap someone, it’d be to get a juicy ransom. Whatever is going on upstate is way beyond my interests.”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you still have one of these ‘invitations,’ then?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, it’s in my back pocket, how about you come over here and get it?” The sneer was back on Tony’s face. He was safe, now that he had provided information that would save his miserable life.</p><p> </p><p>“I could have my <em> friend </em> come get it from you.” Goliath increased his growl in response, and Broadway popped his knuckles and chuckled.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, <em> okay </em> ! You <em> do </em> need to get something out of my pocket, though. My <em> jacket </em> pocket. Get my cell phone out and dial the number I tell you.”</p><p> </p><p>Detective Bluestone drew his gun and stepped into the light. He came up to Tony and reached into his jacket pocket for his cell phone. He saw Tony tense, and pressed his gun to Tony’s side. “<em> Tony </em> , don’t forget my friends are still back there. You might be able to take me out, but you’ll never be able to outrun <em> them </em>.” Tony stilled again.</p><p> </p><p>Tony recited the number, and Detective Bluestone entered it on the phone. He held it out from Tony’s ear so he could listen to the person who picked up.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Boss?! Where are you?! </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Detective Bluestone pressed his gun into Tony’s side again, warning him.</p><p> </p><p>“Glasses, I need you to do something for me. You know that disk that got sent to me again? The really weird one? I need you to bring it to the Silver Falcon Nightclub.”</p><p> </p><p>“Alone!” Broadway shouted from the shadows. “And no guns!”</p><p> </p><p>“Alone, and no guns,” Tony repeated into the phone.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Boss, I don’t like this-” </em></p><p> </p><p>“You don’t <em> have </em> to like it, Glasses, <em> just DO it </em>!” Tony shouted angrily into the phone.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> ...Fine. Be there in 10. </em>” Glasses hung up.</p><p> </p><p>Tony sighed and leaned his head back. “We’re gonna have to get all new numbers and phones. What a pain.”</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p>Lexington passed over the apartment building several times, observing where the lights were located and how many people were coming and going. He saw the squad car stationed outside the building. He had realized on the way that they were going to have to break into the apartment from an outside window, since they didn’t have a key to her apartment. A key would have been useless, they wouldn’t have been able to enter the building anyway.</p><p> </p><p>He glided back to the roof where Hudson and Bronx were hiding, safely in the shadows.</p><p> </p><p>“It looks like we’re going to have to break into the apartment. We should take out some of the lights if we can. I’d take Bronx in there myself but-, he held out his arms, “my wings make it kind of hard to carry him.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t worry about it, lad.” Hudson leaned down and scratched Bronx behind the ear. “We’ll figure it out. Though, I don’t feel right, breaking into her apartment when it was invaded just a few hours ago.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know what you mean, but we need to get Bronx in there and see if he can pick up a scent.” Lexington sat back on his heels, hand on his chin. “If we take out the lights and distract the police officers, Bronx could scale the side of the building on his own. But how do we get one of those windows open? I really don’t want to break one.” Lexington suddenly slapped his forehead and groaned. “We should have had her call someone and tell them to leave one of the windows open!”</p><p> </p><p>“Well then, we’ll work with what we’ve got. So, what’s the plan?”</p><p> </p><p>Together, Lexington and Hudson stealthed to some of the streetlamps and building lights, piercing the light bulbs with a talon. Bronx ran across the roofs, getting into place. The officers slowly got out of their car when they realized that many of the lights were going out, looking to see what was causing it. At Lexington's signal, Hudson, from the shadows of an alley, kicked a trash can hard, so it would roll out onto the sidewalk and make a lot of noise. He ran down the alleyway, continuing to make noise and drawing the officers away from the building.</p><p> </p><p>When the officers were out of sight, Lexington crawled down the side of the apartment building until he got to Melissa’s apartment. He looked in and saw all the blank walls, a shiver shaking his shoulders. He hadn’t seen her apartment before, but it just didn’t look right. He went around to each window, testing to see if they were open, and by some stroke of luck, her kitchen window was unlatched. He whistled to Bronx and slid the window open. Bronx began climbing down from the roof of the building, talons digging into the stone and allowing him to crawl securely to the window. He was much less graceful actually entering the apartment, his taloned paws slipping off the ceramic kitchen sink, sending him crashing to the floor. Both Lexington and Bronx froze, listening.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh boy, I <em> really </em> hope no one heard you, Bronx.” Bronx whined guiltily.</p><p> </p><p>They waited, tense, ready to spring out of the apartment, or at an attacker, or behind the couch, really whatever the situation called for. But thankfully, no one came to check on the loud noise. They both sighed in relief, and Lexington crawled through the window to join Bronx inside the apartment.</p><p> </p><p>“Alright Bronx, it’s all you now!”</p><p> </p><p>Bronx set his nose to the ground and began to hunt for scents. Lexington opened doors into rooms and closets for Bronx but otherwise stood back and let him do his work. While Bronx searched, Lexington looked around the apartment. No computer, but there was a Super Nintendo next to the TV. Books, of course, and VHS tapes. A thick quilt was folded in half over the back of the couch, simple yellow stars on a dark blue background. It looked well-used, with a few tears at some of the seams. Lexington picked it up and folded it tighter, wrapping his tail around it.</p><p> </p><p>Bronx came back to the living room. “Did you find anything?” Bronx let out an excited bark. Lexington quickly clamped Bronx’s mouth together with his hands. “<em> Not so loud!” </em> They froze again,  then heard a door open on the floor below.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Let’s go! </em>” Lexington hissed, rushing Bronx out of the window, then shutting it behind him, keeping his tail rolled around the quilt.</p><p> </p><p>They climbed the apartment building, then jumped from roof to roof until they met up with Hudson again.</p><p> </p><p>“Any luck, Lex? Wait, what have ye’ got there?” Hudson motioned to Lexington’s tail.</p><p> </p><p>He held up the quilt, handing it to Hudson. “It’s from Melissa’s apartment. It probably wasn’t okay to take it, but I thought she might like to have it when we get back.”</p><p> </p><p>Hudson nodded. “I think she’ll appreciate it. So Bronx, did you get a scent?” Bronx barked loudly then growled, turning towards face the direction they needed to head in. “Keep a tight grip on that blanket, Lex, it could be a long night depending where Bronx leads us.”</p><p> </p><p>Bronx led them to an enormous, factory-like building with a large sign on top of it. <em> Gen-U-Tech </em>.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey! This is where Sevarius worked before he disappeared!” Lexington stared at the building. “Why did Bronx lead us here? I’m going to take a look around.” Lexington glided around the building, staying out of sight. He almost didn’t see it.</p><p> </p><p>They had tucked it into a delivery bay in the back of the building and thrown a dark tarp over it. The wind shifted the tarp, and Lexington saw a flash of red. He glided down quietly, trying to avoid the security cameras on the corners of the buildings. He landed close to the tarp-covered object and crouched low, lifting up the tarp.</p><p> </p><p>It looked exactly like Elisa’s car.</p><p> </p><p>Lexington noted the license plate, then climbed up the building to glide back to Hudson and Bronx. They had to get back to the clock tower. <em> Now </em>.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p>Brooklyn paced around the room, like a panther stalking the perimeter of a cage. We had watched the others leave, then stared awkwardly at each other until he turned away and began pacing. He had chosen - <em> insisted </em> - on staying in the clock tower with me, but he hadn’t said a word to me since the others left.</p><p> </p><p>I felt alone.</p><p> </p><p>I stared at the floor, trying to think about what I needed to do next. I knew I would have to find someplace new to live, I would have to get my things from my apartment, I couldn’t go back to that place, they had been watching me, had they watched me go to work every day? Had they watched me come to the Civic Center these last nights? Had they noticed I didn’t leave until morning? Were they waiting for me to leave tonight? What if they were watching me <em> right now </em> ? My heart started pounding again, breathing faster. <em> Stop, stop, STOP, just STOP thinking about it, just STOP THINKING ABOUT IT </em>.</p><p> </p><p>I hugged my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around my legs, burying my face in my knees. I heard Brooklyn stop his pacing. A few heartbeats later, I heard him walk towards me.</p><p> </p><p>“...Melissa?” I lifted my eyes to his. He stayed back from me, worried and unsure. “It’s gonna be okay. We’ll take care of you. We’ll catch the guy who took Elisa, who broke into your apartment, and we’ll make sure he <em> never </em> hurts you or Elisa again.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know.” I had said it so quietly that he leaned forward to hear me, coming a little closer. I lowered my eyes again, but slid my feet back to the floor, my hands on the edge of the crate.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, I’m serious!” He came closer. “We’re going to find Elisa, and we’re going to protect you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Mmhmm.” I started tearing up, tears that I really didn’t have the energy to shed. I rubbed them away with the back of my hand.</p><p> </p><p>He carefully sat on the crate next to me, sitting side-by-side. He gently ran his hand over my hair. “<em> I’ll </em> protect you.”</p><p> </p><p>I reached up and brought his hand down between us, his palm resting on mine. I lifted it up to my face to look more closely at his talons, my other hand coming up to tap and trace the thick claws that tipped his fingers. It had been hard to get a good look at where his fingers ended and his talons began, especially since they were the same color and blended together. Up close, they were less like a bird of prey’s talons than I had thought. They started farther back on his fingers and were straight instead of curving down, shaped more like human nails than any animal’s. They tapered to a point just past the pads of his fingers. They were duller than they looked, which meant that any damage dealt by those talons would never be accidental. I wondered why he had been so cautious the few times he and I had made contact.</p><p> </p><p>“Does climbing walls hurt?”</p><p> </p><p>“W-what?” Despite sitting right next to me, I seemed to have caught him by surprise.</p><p> </p><p>I tapped on his pointer finger talon. “Your talons don’t go past your fingers very far, and they don’t cover them like a cap or thimble. If I climbed up a wall with just <em> my </em> nails, they’d probably just fall off, if I didn’t fall first, and the tips of my fingers would definitely be torn up. But it doesn’t seem like it’s the same for gargoyles?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh. No, it doesn’t hurt. If we need to, we can just jab our fingers into the stone and climb, or make slashes in stone. Or in enemies. I’ve never really thought about it. Your nails can’t be <em> that </em> weak, can they?”</p><p> </p><p>I offered my free hand for him to inspect. “You tell me.”</p><p> </p><p>He took my hand, raising it to his eyes, and stared at my nails. “Yeah, you definitely can’t climb any walls with these. You might be able to scratch someone, though. Maybe. If they were made of tissues.” He looked at me sideways, brow bone raised.</p><p> </p><p>“Hilarious.” I rolled my eyes a little, but I felt a smile tug at the corners of my mouth. “Thanks for staying with me, Brooklyn.”</p><p> </p><p>“No problem. I couldn’t just leave you here.”</p><p> </p><p>I looked over at him. “Why?”</p><p> </p><p>“What?”</p><p> </p><p>“Why did you stay here, with me? I’m sure I would have been safe with Hudson and Bronx, but you asked Goliath if you could stay instead. Why?”</p><p>I thought about pulling my hands away from his. They were suspended in the space between us. One of his hands rested on the palm of mine, while the other held mine as if he was getting ready to bestow a kiss on it. It hadn’t felt awkward and significant until I noticed that I hadn’t pulled away. He hadn’t pulled away either. Would it be better to let go, or stay?</p><p> </p><p>“I, um…” He sighed and shook his head. “I care about you. A lot. And yeah, you would have been fine here with Hudson and Bronx, but...I wanted to be the one here protecting you.”</p><p> </p><p>“...because you care about me a lot?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. I do.”</p><p> </p><p>I smiled, smaller and more tired than it would have been if tonight hadn’t been a fright fest for me. He smiled back, the edges of his beak turning up.</p><p> </p><p>He hadn’t pulled his hands away, and I still hadn’t moved mine. The longer we stayed that way, the more something built up between us. I felt a pressure in my chest, the same kind of pressure I felt when I watched romantic scenes in movies.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>...Romantic? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The pressure kept building in my chest.</p><p> </p><p>Was I the only one feeling this? Or, did he…</p><p> </p><p>I slowly pressed my palm into his, twisting my hand so that our fingers could intertwine, if…</p><p> </p><p>His fingers curled to hold my hand, and mine did the same.</p><p> </p><p>His other hand tightened on mine, his thumb brushing across the back of my hand. I tightened my grip back.</p><p> </p><p>Our hands drifted down in the space between us as we leaned in closer to each other.</p><p> </p><p>I could feel my heartbeat in my fingers, in my chest, in my lips.</p><p> </p><p>Too fast.</p><p> </p><p>This was too fast.</p><p> </p><p>I had just had my entire sense of safety turned upside down, I didn’t have the space to process this. To process leaning in towards Brooklyn, to process our hands intertwining, to process the feelings that were building up in me. I needed the space, but it was happening too fast.</p><p> </p><p>I tilted my head down. I hadn’t meant to, and the movement was jerky. Did he notice? What if he didn’t notice? Should I look back up? Should I say something? Should I let go?</p><p> </p><p>I didn’t <em> want </em> to let go. But should I?</p><p> </p><p>It was too fast, but was it too late to keep whatever was happening going, to just save it for a different night, when my entire life <em>hadn't</em> completely changed in the span of a few hours?</p><p> </p><p>Could I hit ‘pause’ instead of ‘stop?’</p><p> </p><p>I felt Brooklyn press his forehead to mine, then stop. We sat like that, hands clasped, breathing the same air, that feeling, whatever it was, continuing to build up. <em> What now? What happens now? What am I supposed to do now?</em></p><p> </p><p>“Melissa.” His voice was hushed. “I care about you a lot. And...I care <em> for </em> you. A <em> lot </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>This wasn’t a ‘cool one-liner’ he had lifted from a TV show. This wasn’t something he was trying to say to impress me. </p><p> </p><p>He was showing me a little piece of his heart. A small piece, like an offering, to see what I would do with it.</p><p> </p><p>“Brooklyn…”</p><p> </p><p>I had given pieces of my heart away before, in mixed tapes I made for friends, in the silly apology gifts I gave, in the meals I made when I visited my family. Those pieces were treasured, and always returned to me bigger and stronger.</p><p> </p><p>I had given some pieces of my heart to people who had broken them instead. Those never came back.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> What would you do with this piece of my heart? It’s only a small piece, but it’s still my heart. If I place it in your hand, would you hold it? Or would you crush it? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“I...I think I might care <em> for </em> you, too.”</p><p> </p><p>He sighed, part-laugh, part-relief, and, maybe, part surprise.</p><p> </p><p>My heart skipped lightly, the pressure in my chest turning bubbly and making me smile.</p><p> </p><p>A rumbling sound slowly built up, seeming to come from Brooklyn. </p><p> </p><p>It almost sounded like…</p><p> </p><p>“Brooklyn, are you <em> purring </em>?”</p><p> </p><p>He pulled back, stuttering.</p><p> </p><p>“Am, am I, uh, n-no? N...no? That’s not what-”</p><p> </p><p>“Brooklyn <em> you’re purring </em> ! Do gargoyles <em> purr </em>?”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> No </em>!”</p><p> </p><p>A grin curled across my face. “<em> Brooklyn </em> , come on. You <em> totally </em> purr!”</p><p> </p><p>He slid his hands over his face groaning.</p><p> </p><p>I hadn’t realized that we had let go of each other.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, <em> fine </em> . Yes, gargoyles ‘purr,’ just like we ‘growl’ and ‘roar.’ Are you <em> happy </em>?!” He glared jokingly at me, but I could tell he was just a little bit embarrassed.</p><p> </p><p>I thought about everything that had just happened between us. Then I thought about everything that had happened today. And last night. And the past few days and nights. Reality crept back to the front of my mind, and my smile slid from my face.</p><p> </p><p>Brooklyn knocked a fist on his forehead, groaning. “I messed that up, didn’t I?”</p><p> </p><p>I shook my head. “No, I just...um, <em> this </em> ” I motioned between us, quickly rushing on,”makes me happy <em> BUT </em> considering everything else that’s happened in the past week…”</p><p> </p><p>He leaned his elbows on his knees, leaning his head on one hand. “...there’s not a lot to be happy about overall.”</p><p> </p><p>I paused. I thought about our hands, the air we had shared, the pieces we entrusted to each other. Would it be okay to…</p><p> </p><p>I leaned my head onto his shoulder and waited.</p><p> </p><p>He reached over and took my hand in his. Relief settled my mind and lifted my heart again.</p><p> </p><p>“A little bit of ‘happy’ isn’t a bad thing, though. Right?”</p><p> </p><p>He responded by wrapping his wings around the both of us, tri-claws clasped in front. I felt the warmth of his body and his wings, soaking into my skin like sunlight.</p><p> </p><p>“Right.” He leaned his head on mine, and started purring again.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Twenty</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Everyone returns to the clock tower to share what they've found, and Melissa has a nightmare and takes a little risk.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>I fell asleep like that, my head on Brooklyn’s shoulder, his wings wrapped around us, my hand in his.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I was outside of my apartment. I stood in front of my door, seeing that it was slightly open. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I was down the hallway, watching myself in front of my door.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t open it.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>DON’T OPEN IT.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I reached for the handle. It began to shake violently before I touched it.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The building shook violently. Walls, and floor, and ceiling. Shaking.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I watched myself touch the handle. I looked small. And thin. And weak.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I grasped the handle, but it was pulled out of my hand.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The door didn’t move.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It started to swing open.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The door wasn’t moving, yet it was opening.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It was quiet. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It was the absence of sound.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I ran towards myself.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I looked into the crack in the door, watching it open.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Darkness.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The door stopped.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Something was coming.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>In the space between the door and the dark.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>As slow and as fast as the moon rising above the horizon.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Its skin was wrong. Craters oozing infection, boils too soft, blackened rotting pieces sliding off.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Its eyes.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Pupils in a sea of yellow, ringed by red that had leaked from burst veins.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Its nose was gone, gaping holes of sludge left behind instead.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No lips, but it smiled.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>With teeth too long, too narrow.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And sharp.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I tried to scream, both of me, but my voices were silent.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I watched a thin arm, too bony, too long, too strong, shoot out from the doorway.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I saw the sharp, long fingers wrap around my throat.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I felt the sharp, long fingers dig into my skin.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I watched it drag me through the door, fast.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I woke up with a gasp, shaking, a cold sweat all over me.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I tried to stand up but something held me in place. I panicked, clawing at the material around me, breathing fast, struggling to get free.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ow ow ow ouch OUCH OUCH </span>
  <em>
    <span>OUCH!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I was released and sprang forward, looking around, body shaky.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then I remembered where I was.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The clock tower, at the Civic Center, with Brooklyn.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>What the hell</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Melissa?!” He looked at the inside of his wing, light pink scratch marks rising out of the burgundy under-wing color. He poked at one. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>OW! Jeez, </span>
  </em>
  <span>I guess those nails </span>
  <em>
    <span>can</span>
  </em>
  <span> do some damage!” He turned to look at me, confused and worried. “What </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I stared at him, folding my hands together in front of me to try to hide their shaking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-I had a nightmare, and, and, I didn’t remember where I </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and it...it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>awful</span>
  </em>
  <span>. There was...a</span>
  <em>
    <span> thing</span>
  </em>
  <span>...in my apartment...”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brooklyn came over and took my hands in his. “It was just a nightmare, Melissa, you’re safe here.” He looked down at my hands, noticing the shaking, and held them tighter.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I stepped in towards him, tightening my grip back. “I think it’s going to be a while before I feel safe anywhere.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wrapped his wings around me again. The pink scratches I had left on his wing looked painful and deep, and I wondered if it would leave a scar. “You’re safe with </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>WE’VE GOT A LEAD!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brooklyn retracted his wings and spun towards the balcony, talons out and ready to spring at the source of the voice. He relaxed when he realized it was Broadway.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Broadway bounded into the clock tower from the balcony, holding what looked like a golden jewelry box over his head. He was wearing a tan trench coat and matching fedora. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Goliath followed in after him. “Detective Bluestone should be here shortly. We believe that this clue will lead us to the people who have taken Elisa.” He stopped on the giant stone stairs and looked at Brooklyn and I.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Really? That’s great! Jack’s going to be so happy that he was able to help! What’s the clue?” I was relieved that the case was finally seeing some progress.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This!” Broadway proudly held up the golden box. On closer inspection, it looked like something that belonged inside of a computer, maybe gold-plated. Symbols were printed on one side of the device: a pair of crossed swords, a flame, a skull, and a bird in flight, arranged in a diamond. Underneath it, a date was etched into the gold, just three days away. “It looks like those things we stole from Cyberbiotics when we first woke up.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You stole things from Cyberbiotics?” I looked over to Brooklyn. He hadn’t mentioned this in our history lesson the other night.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Another </span>
  <em>
    <span>Xanatos</span>
  </em>
  <span> trick,” he replied sourly, fists and teeth clenching.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“After we awakened, David Xanatos was able to convince us that Cyberbiotics had stolen three disks from him,” Goliath elaborated, crossing his arms and frowning at the memory. “And we offered to retrieve them for him, in thanks for freeing us from the sleeping curse. We were as ignorant as hatchlings, trusting him. We realized that </span>
  <em>
    <span>we</span>
  </em>
  <span> were the thieves </span>
  <em>
    <span>after</span>
  </em>
  <span> we had given the disks over to Xanatos.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Lex’ll be able to look at these and tell us what they are,” Broadway said confidently. “Then we solve the clue, find Elisa, catch the bad guy, and make it home just in time for a snack before sunrise!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You and your stomach. I’m surprised you can still fit into that tiny jacket.” Broadway straightened his trench coat and glared at Brooklyn.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re just jealous because you destroyed your leather jacket the same day you got it!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It was destroyed in a </span>
  <em>
    <span>fight</span>
  </em>
  <span>, a fight against TEN bikers. Which I </span>
  <em>
    <span>won</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Brooklyn jabbed a finger towards Broadway.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, a fight that ended up with my custom motorcycle, that </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> built, exploding!” Lexington noted, entering through the glass door to the balcony.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I looked to Brooklyn, raising my eyebrows. “That sounds like quite a story!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looked away from me. “Yeah, well it didn’t end well, and I’d rather not relive it.” I didn’t know if I was getting better at reading his expressions, but he seemed to be remembering another deep hurt, like when he told me about the gargoyle who had betrayed them a thousand years ago.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, come on, Brook! Things worked out in the end,” Hudson teased. Bronx had come to lean against my legs, and after receiving a few head-scratches he made his way to join Hudson.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s that, Broadway?” Lexington pointed at the golden box. “Looks like the disks we stole for Xanatos.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That's what </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> thought! Take a look!” He handed Lexington the ‘disk’ then started removing his coat and hat, moving to a beat-up coat rack in a corner near the kitchenette and hanging them up lovingly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lexington turned the box around in his hands, examining it. “Yeah, this is exactly like those other disks, except it’s got fancier packaging. Where’d you get this?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“From Tony Dracon,” Matt explained as he came up the ladder-steps. “Melissa, you’ll have to tell Jack that his hunch worked out!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I will, but he’ll probably insist that you tell him all the details.” I smiled, thinking about Jack bragging about his ‘hot lead’ cracking the case wide open.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What of your search, Lexington? Was Bronx able to pick up a scent from Melissa’s apartment?” Goliath looked at Lexington, then looked at his tail. “What is that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, right!” He unrolled a well-loved quilt and held it up. “I grabbed this for Melissa.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The blanket from my couch!” He handed it to me proudly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I thought you’d like something from home, without, you know, having to go back there just yet.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I held the quilt to my face, breathing it in. “My aunt made this for me when she was just learning how to quilt. It’s one of my favorite things.” I hugged it to my chest. “Thank you, Lex, this was really sweet of you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aw, no problem, we were there anyway” he replied, then snapped to attention. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>RIGHT</span>
  </em>
  <span>! Goliath, Bronx </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> pick up a scent in the apartment!” Bronx barked happily from his spot next to Hudson.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Goliath leaned forward eagerly, completely focused on Lexington. “Where did it lead to?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, Bronx led us to Gen-U-Tech, of all places, and when I took a look around, I saw a classic red car hidden behind the building under a tarp! I think it was Elisa’s!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did you get a look at the plates?” Matt cut in. Lexington carefully recited the license plate. “That’s the same as Elisa’s car! You guys found it!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But why was it at Gen-U-Tech?” Goliath held his fist to his chin in thought.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Matt thought carefully. “Either whoever took Elisa lured her to Gen-U-Tech sometime that day, then moved her car, or they took her from her apartment that morning and used her car to go unnoticed. Either way, it looks like we’ve got </span>
  <em>
    <span>two</span>
  </em>
  <span> leads: Gen-U-Tech, and that disk.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not bad for a night’s work!” Broadway said proudly. “We should celebrate! Anyone up for some late-night pierogis?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Goliath looked to the bit of sky visible from the open glass door. “Dawn is only an hour away. We will not be able to pursue these ‘leads’ until tomorrow night. Detective Bluestone, Melissa, what do you plan to do with these leads while we sleep?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I hesitated. I had, for a moment, forgotten that I needed to find a new place to live. I hadn’t even thought about needing to go into work, packing my things, getting some sleep that wasn’t plagued with nightmares, </span>
  <em>
    <span>showering</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Top priority is going to be hiding Melissa.” Matt said it decisively, like it was the obvious next step.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I tried to push down the feeling of relief that I was going to be going into something like Witness Protection, something safer than returning to my apartment. But I knew that Elisa was in more danger than I was, and I felt bad that I was being pushed up the priority list, even temporarily.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Elisa has been missing for </span>
  <em>
    <span>four nights</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Goliath stared at us, his face and voice hard. “You said yourself that the longer she is missing, the more danger she is in. And the less likely that she will be found at all.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Goliath,” Lexington interrupted. “The date on the disk is three days away. If this disk has anything to do with finding Elisa, then it looks like we’ve still got time, and we </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> just leave Melissa sitting out like bait.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you really want us to follow up on these leads </span>
  <em>
    <span>without</span>
  </em>
  <span> you?” Goliath shifted uncomfortably at Matt’s point, but sighed and nodded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You are right, as much as I do not like it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Besides, I’m not going to just </span>
  <em>
    <span>ignore</span>
  </em>
  <span> these leads during the day. I’ll do some digging into them, see what I can find out before we really start investigating them.” Goliath nodded, appeased for the moment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Matt turned to me.  “You and I should get going. I stopped by my place on the way back to check whether my contacts had gotten back to me. We’ve found you a place, but we should go to your apartment so you can get some necessities.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good thing Lex already got me started.” I hugged my quilt to my chest. “That sounds great. Thank you, Matt.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No problem, but we should go now, when there are less people who could see you.” He turned to the other gargoyles. “We’ll see all of you tonight.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They nodded and started drifting around the room. Broadway made his way over to the clock tower phone, picking up a piece of paper from a pile next to it, presumably takeout menus. </span>
  <em>
    <span>How do they pay for their food? How do they not scare off the delivery drivers?</span>
  </em>
  <span> It probably wasn’t important. Lexington joined Broadway, looking over the menu. Goliath stood with Hudson, discussing something in hushed, serious tones.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I followed Matt down the ladder-stairs. Brooklyn poked his head through the hatch before I left out of the janitor’s closet. “Melissa?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Matt looked at me questioningly, but I motioned him on. “I’ll be out in a minute.” He shrugged and closed the closet door. I heard his footsteps walk a few paces away and stop, waiting.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brooklyn jumped down into the closet through the hatch, having to fold his wings around himself to fit. I could see the scratches, raised lines on the outer part of his wings. I reached out and brushed his wing near the scratches, careful not to touch them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wow, I really </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> do some damage. I’m so sorry.” Guilt pinched my heart sharply. “Is it going to leave a scar?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nah, it’ll be gone by the time we wake up. We heal while we sleep, I could break my arm and it’d be good as new by the time I woke up. Just not if it got broken </span>
  <em>
    <span>while</span>
  </em>
  <span> I was sleeping.” He looked down at the quilt in my arm, still hugged into my chest. “Glad </span>
  <em>
    <span>Lex</span>
  </em>
  <span> got your blanket for you,” he grumbled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For some reason, Brooklyn was jealous that Lexington had retrieved my quilt for me from my apartment. I had thought it was something kind, something someone would do for a friend, but maybe Brooklyn thought something different. Some people thought jealousy was cute, or endearing, or sexy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I was not one of those people. I hoped that this jealousy was temporary. Whatever was going on, whatever these feelings that I had for Brooklyn were - feelings I hesitated naming except for ‘caring’ - wouldn’t last if jealousy was a permanent part of it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Plus, it was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>quilt</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He was jealous that someone had brought </span>
  <em>
    <span>my own quilt</span>
  </em>
  <span> to me.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I unfolded my quilt and stepped towards him, reaching behind him to drape it across his back, then pulled the ends towards me and down, making him lean closer. It wasn’t a perfect resemblance, but it was as close to wrapping wings around him as </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> could get.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know what you </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> meant by that, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> were the one who stayed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span> were here, </span>
  <em>
    <span>you were </span>
  </em>
  <span>protecting me, </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> were comforting me. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span> were with </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” I pressed my forehead to his, like he had done to me earlier that night. “That matters to me in a </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> different way than a friend getting my quilt does. You </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> to know that.” It was an echo from the night before, when he had reminded me that I was welcome into the clock tower, into their </span>
  <em>
    <span>lives</span>
  </em>
  <span>, in my own right.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sighed. There was disappointment there, but I think it was disappointment in himself. “I’m sorry. I...I’ve just-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a rap on the door. Matt’s voice came from outside. “Melissa, we need to go now if we want to try and sneak you in and out of your apartment without anyone noticing.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, just one second!” I turned back to Brooklyn. “Tell me about it tomorrow night?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s a date,” he said with a smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Now </span>
  <em>
    <span>that’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> a one-liner to go out on!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His smile widened to a grin. “What can I say, I’m good, even when I’m not trying!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I slid the quilt from around his shoulders and folded it up again. I had an idea, a risk, and it made my heart beat fast and loud, excitement and doubt fighting for the final decision. Would it be stupid, or cute, or awkward, or…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before I could overanalyze anymore, I leaned forward and kissed his cheek.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It felt childish, and ridiculously chaste, despite the fact that whatever was happening had only been going on for half a night. I think I did it too hard, too, maybe he’d mistake it for a bad headbutt. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh no, I hope that wasn’t a bad idea</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sleep tight!” I said it too quickly, and sped out the door. I glanced behind me as I pulled the door shut, but all I saw was his tail disappearing up the ladder-stairs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I would have to wait until the sun went back down to find out if I had ruined things or not. I didn’t look forward to worrying about it for the next twelve-ish hours.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Twenty One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Melissa goes into hiding.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Matt snuck me into my apartment and told me to pack as if I was going to be gone for a month. That way, anyone still watching the apartment wouldn’t necessarily know I was well and truly <em> moving </em>, but maybe just leaving town for a while. I gathered my things, then tried to sneak a few personal items into my suitcase. Unfortunately, Matt noticed when I went for the Super Nintendo and shook his head. It would have to stay behind.</p><p> </p><p>We left my apartment and headed towards a hotel. I had never heard of it before, but instead of going to the check-in counter when we entered the lobby, Matt led me towards a ‘Staff Only’ door. The door led downstairs into a long concrete hallway.</p><p> </p><p>“Matt, I <em> really </em> hope you’re not planning to put me in some room down here. I think I’d feel unsafe for a different set of reasons…”</p><p> </p><p>“No, we’ve still got a long way to go before we get there. Don’t worry, it’s not going to be underground.”</p><p> </p><p>We walked down the hallway, and kept walking down it. It seemed endless, and definitely led well past the boundaries of the hotel we had entered. Matt started taking lefts and rights, seemingly at random, passing by unmarked doors. After 20 minutes of walking through the labyrinthine passages, he chose one of the unmarked doors and opened it, revealing another staircase.</p><p> </p><p>I had been feeling more and more uneasy as we walked. Not that I felt <em> unsafe </em> , but I didn’t know anything about where we were going. The tunnels had disoriented me, and I couldn’t tell what part of the city we were under. Not having any information was for my safety, I knew, but it made me feel even more powerless. The invader had taken away my safety, my <em> home </em>, and I didn’t even have a say about where I was moving to. I hoped Matt had been able to find something near the clock tower at least, but I couldn’t be sure.</p><p> </p><p>We went up one staircase, emerging into a concrete stairwell, then kept climbing. We climbed <em> sixteen floors </em> . Matt had offered to carry my suitcase around the fourth floor, but we still had to climb slowly. If wherever I was staying had a treadmill or a stationary bike, I was going to start doing cardio immediately. <em> Why don’t these detectives like using elevators?! </em> I thought as I panted, sweat dampening my shirt.</p><p> </p><p>The stairwell door on the sixteenth floor opened up into a luxurious hallway. The carpet was navy blue with golden rope patterns. Navy silk curtains framed oil-painted seascapes at even intervals down the hallway. The hallway’s wallpaper was cream-colored and lightly embossed with a rope pattern, similar to the carpet. For the hallway being as large as it was, there seemed to only be five doors: the stairwell door we came through, and four navy, metal doors, staggered so that no one would ever accidentally come face to face should they enter or exit the doors at the same time. Each door had a letter on it, but otherwise they were indistinguishable.</p><p> </p><p>Matt led me to the door marked ‘D,’ taking a key out of his pocket and unlocking it. The door led to a ridiculously luxurious apartment, the kind that would be featured in interior design magazines marketed to the uber-rich.</p><p> </p><p>We entered a small foyer with an elegant dark wooden table and ornate, gold-framed mirror on one side, and dark wooden doors. I had a strong suspicion that any of the dark wood in this apartment would almost certainly be mahogany, instead of the light pine furniture that was currently trendy. It just felt like a ‘mahogany’ kind of place.</p><p> </p><p>The walls throughout the foyer and main room were deep, rich green, with dark crown moulding and trim. Damask curtains in dark green, black, and gold, held together by black braided ropes, covered tall windows along the largest wall. More oil paintings, this time of fruit or flower still lifes, hung on the walls in intricately-carved gilt frames. Golden sconces and a few lamps gave the room a close, intimate feeling, despite being about the same size as my entire apartment. The parts of the floor that could be seen were, of course, dark mahogany that had been polished to a high shine. Matching rugs in patterns of green and gold lined the hallways and covered most of the floor.</p><p> </p><p>A leather couch, oversized and plush, faced a huge gas fireplace. Built-in shelves around the fireplace housed a large television, a stereo system, and books, all very expensive-looking. Two overstuffed armchairs sat across from each other near the fireplace, each with a small wooden table next to it.</p><p> </p><p>I stood in the doorway between the foyer and the main room, staring at the sumptuous room in front of me.</p><p> </p><p>Matt whistled in amazement. “This is a lot swankier than my contact made it seem!”</p><p> </p><p>“Matt, are you <em> sure </em> you’ve got the right place? This is what I imagine the presidential suite at the Waldorf looks like! Are you <em> sure </em>?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, this is the place. I’m just as surprised as you are! Let’s explore more, see where we can set down your suitcase.”</p><p> </p><p>We explored the massive apartment and found a wood-paneled library (also with a fireplace), a formal dining room, a large kitchen with commercial appliances, a guest bathroom, and a home gym.</p><p> </p><p>I found the bedroom I would be staying in. While most of the apartment was decorated in deep jewel tones, the bedroom was painted in dove gray with white trim. The dresser, vanity, chair, and bedside tables were simple yet elegant, white with light silver accents. The bed was huge, covered with a plump white comforter and matching pillows in front of a tufted gray headboard. Deep gray curtains hung to the sides of the windows while sheer white panels diffused the daylight, giving the room a dreamy look. A white door to the side appeared to lead to an ensuite bathroom.</p><p> </p><p>“Matt, I found it!”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Finally </em>!” He came to the door and handed me my suitcase. “I’ll give you some time to unpack. We don’t know how long you’re going to have to stay here.”</p><p> </p><p>I slowly put my clothes into the empty drawers and stowed my toiletries in the bathroom (which had a large whirlpool tub). I looked at my more personal things, then looked at the room. It was a beautiful room, but sterile. Whoever owned this apartment had decorated it beautifully, richly, and elaborately, but without a trace of themselves anywhere. Whoever they were, they were letting me stay here, as a favor to Matt. From how mysterious Matt was about his contact, and from the lack of their identity anywhere in the apartment, I probably wouldn’t ever get to meet or thank them.</p><p> </p><p>I spread my quilt at the foot of the bed and placed my well-thumbed copy of <em> An Acceptable Time </em> on the bedside table. I must have read it at least four times, and I always chose it as my travel book. Just having it with me, being able to flip through the pages and glance over the words, made me feel more at home.</p><p> </p><p>I rejoined Matt in the foyer.</p><p> </p><p>“So, feel settled in?”</p><p> </p><p>“Not even close,” I shook my head, but smiled. “But this is really great, especially at such short notice. I know I’m not supposed to ask who it is…” I looked at Matt, who raised an eyebrow at me. “Darn! I hoped that would work. Well, whoever it is, thank them for me.”</p><p> </p><p>“I can do that. So, we’ve gotten you moved in, but there’s another part of the plan that you’re not going to like.”</p><p> </p><p>“Alright....what is it?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m going to take you by the Main Branch, and you’re going to have to quit your job.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> WHAT?! </em> That’s ridiculous! Why?!”</p><p> </p><p>He looked me in the eye, dead serious. “Your life is in danger, and someone has been watching you. We don’t know why, and we don’t know for how long. You’re going into an unofficial Witness Protection program. You can’t go back to your apartment. And you can’t go back to work.”</p><p> </p><p>I started tearing up. “What am I supposed to tell them?”</p><p> </p><p>“We’ll keep the same cover, that you’re going out of town for at least a month.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why is that my cover?”<br/><br/></p><p>“If the person saw you at your apartment this morning, they’ll have seen that you packed for at least a month. We’ll keep that same time frame, but it’s up to you to come up the reason why you’re quitting your job.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, that’s the part I’m going to need <em> help </em> with. What reason could I possibly come up with that would make me <em> quit my job </em> for <em> one month </em>? Why wouldn’t I just request time off?!”</p><p> </p><p>“It needs to look permanent.” Matt gave me a look, sympathy written all over his face.</p><p> </p><p>Then I realized. “I need to look like I’m <em> actually </em> going into Witness Protection…”</p><p> </p><p>“...And quitting your job is part of that process. But instead of being findable through any official program, the only person who knows you’re going into hiding is me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Not even Chief Chavez?”</p><p> </p><p>He shook his head. “I’ll let her know that you’re going into Witness Protection, and that I’m still allowed to have contact with you.”</p><p> </p><p>“So, you’re going to lie to the Chief of Detectives.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes. I trust her, but I don’t know if I can trust anyone else in the station. Especially with Elisa gone. We may have figured out where her car went, and we’ll hopefully get a possible location from the disk we got from Dracon, but we don’t have anything else. I can’t be sure that there isn’t a spy in the station.”</p><p> </p><p>I ran my hands over my face. “I really wish I could just say that you’re being paranoid, but you’re right.”</p><p> </p><p>“Honestly? I wish I could say that too. Let’s go ahead and go to the Main Branch, get this last part over with.” He reached for the dark wooden doors in the foyer instead of the one leading to the hallway.</p><p> </p><p>I was about to make a joke about going to have tea in Narnia, but instead of leading to a coat closet, the doors led to an elevator. I looked at it, then looked at Matt.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, we’re not <em> taking </em> the elevator. We’ve still got to go through the tunnels to get back to the cover hotel. I just wanted you to know it was here.”</p><p> </p><p>“You, Detective Matt Bluestone, are a cruel, heartless person.” He chuckled, then closed the <em> elevator closet </em> door.</p><p> </p><p>Almost an hour later, we had arrived at the Main Branch. My despair had grown with every step. I would have to tell my supervisor that I was quitting, and that it was ‘for good.’ I debated miserably with myself about whether to seek out Jack and Clara, to tell them that I was quitting, to try to make them understand without actually ruining the plan. I didn’t know if leaving without a word would be cruel or kind.</p><p> </p><p>I stood in my supervisor’s office, Matt waiting outside as I explained that I needed to quit.</p><p> </p><p>“Very well, Melissa, what is your reason for quitting?” Nicole, the Head of Information Resources and Services, tended to be a logical, analytical person. It was the perfect personality for choosing informational materials for the Main Branch’s collection and securing research partnerships with universities and centers in the city, but she wasn’t suited to handling people very delicately. She asked me why conversationally, while holding a notepad in front of her. “Your official reason, so I can put it in your file.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s all there in my Letter of Resignation.” I had insisted on writing one before going to the office. It was procedure, and Nicole liked procedure, but I also knew that mailing or faxing it in wouldn’t be an option. It’d give away my location. “I have a great aunt and uncle in New Jersey who need round-the-clock care now, and my family and I decided it would make the most sense for me to move in with them. To help.”</p><p> </p><p>She looked at me curiously. “But you’re not a health care worker.”</p><p> </p><p>“They’ll have a team of nurses come in, but I’ll help with their day-to-day stuff. Travel, groceries and cooking, etc.”</p><p> </p><p>Nicole nodded, jotting it down. “Well, it was a pleasure to work with you, Melissa. We’ll miss you. Best of luck with your great aunt and uncle.” She rose to shake my hand.</p><p> </p><p>This was it.</p><p> </p><p>With a handshake, I would permanently quit my job, with no guarantee that I would get it back.</p><p> </p><p>My heart broke as we shook hands.</p><p> </p><p>“You may go collect your things from your desk, but once you leave the building you will not be permitted into Staff Only spaces, so make sure you get everything.”</p><p> </p><p>I knew that was the policy, but it still stung.</p><p> </p><p>As Matt and I walked down the hallway to our office, I thought of how much I would miss my desk. The staff kitchenette. Jack and Clara.</p><p> </p><p>I had decided to face them. It was the least that I owed them.</p><p> </p><p>I took a deep breath, and walked through the door to the familiar sight of Clara working hard on her sources, and Jack lounging in his chair, taking one of his many ‘little breaks.’</p><p> </p><p>“Melissa! It’s about time you came in!” Jack sat up when we came in. “And Matt! So, tell me the truth: how did that lead turn out? You know, the one I <em> graciously </em> offered you yesterday?”</p><p> </p><p>Matt laughed. “It worked out great! We did actually get a lead from Tony Dracon. You were invaluable.”</p><p> </p><p>Jack jumped up and threw an arm around Matt. “Okay, I’m going to need <em> a lot </em> more details! Was Tony brought into the police station? Was he scared? Did he piss his pants?”</p><p> </p><p>Jack and Matt talked animatedly, Jack reveling in every detail Matt gave him. I turned to Clara.</p><p> </p><p>“Alright, so what’s wrong?” I wouldn’t be getting any pleasant small talk from Clara today. I couldn’t tell if I was grateful for that, or disappointed.</p><p> </p><p>“I quit my job.” She looked at me silently, as if she was trying to tell if I was lying. “I have a great aunt and uncle in New Jersey that I’m moving in with. To take care of them.”</p><p> </p><p>She stayed silent for another long moment, then sighed. “So, you’re going away, possibly for a long time?” I nodded my head. “But you might not <em> really </em> be going to New Jersey?”</p><p> </p><p>“I told Nicole that I was going to New Jersey,” I said carefully. Clara nodded.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s what I thought.” She stood up and hugged me tightly. “We’ll miss you.”</p><p> </p><p>I choked up, my throat going tight. I didn’t know when - or if - I’d see her again. I was another librarian, disappearing on her. Only this time, she got to say goodbye.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll miss you guys too.”</p><p> </p><p>Jack noticed, concern shadowing his face. “Wait, what’s going on?”</p><p> </p><p>Matt answered for me. “Melissa’s going out of town for a while.”</p><p> </p><p>Jack looked between Matt and I. He came over and hugged me, so tight that it felt like he was squeezing the air out of my lungs. “Just stay safe, okay?”</p><p> </p><p>I nodded into his shoulder, trying to hug him just as tight in return.</p><p> </p><p>He released me, and I turned to go when he suddenly grabbed Matt’s shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Wait! </em> What about the case?! Can we still help you guys work on it? I mean, <em> you </em>” he winked at Matt, “work on it?”</p><p> </p><p>Matt thought about it for a few moments, turning to look at the wall of evidence. “I think that’s a great idea. We need to consult professional library staff anyway, since it involves the missing librarians.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes!” Jack punched the air with his fist in victory.</p><p> </p><p>“Detective Bluestone, is Melissa going to be added to the missing librarians file?” Clara asked.</p><p> </p><p>“No, because she’ll be going to New Jersey, she’s technically not missing.”</p><p> </p><p>Clara nodded. “Good. Make sure you keep her safe.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t worry, Clara. I won’t be the only one keeping an eye on her.” I immediately thought of the gargoyles, currently frozen as statues along the stone railing at the top of the Civic Center. It warmed my heart a little, to know I wasn’t going to be completely isolated. </p><p> </p><p>Confined to a single, luxurious apartment, but not isolated.</p><p> </p><p>“We should go,” Matt said. “We need to get you to New Jersey.”</p><p> </p><p>I turned to look at Clara and Jack one last time before I closed the door, a small and sad smile on my face. I hoped I’d get to see them again, and soon.</p><p> </p><p>As we left the Main Branch, a wave of anger washed over me. Anger that I had to go into hiding, anger that I had to quit my job and abandon my friends, my apartment, my <em> life </em>, because some stranger decided to break in and threaten me. Anger that I couldn’t just protect myself, so I didn’t have to run and hide.</p><p> </p><p>I was so absorbed in my anger that I almost ran head-first into NYPL President Harding. His meticulous houndstooth suit was sharply tailored for a man much larger than the one who wore it. The expensive suit hung oddly off of a tall, gaunt frame topped by a skull-like face. President Harding's cheeks were hollow, deep shadows appearing as dark as bruises on his paper-thin skin. The auburn hair that topped his head was slicked back to within an inch of its life, kept in place yet looking oily and stringy. The tall, skeletal man looked down at me, dark eyes glittering with something like fever, a smile stretching his skin back taught. His teeth were too bright and perfectly straight. It took me a moment to realize that his lips weren't swollen, but artificially plumped, making his smile even more odd on his sharp, angular face.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, President Harding! I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going!”</p><p> </p><p>President Harding nodded graciously. “Don’t worry about it, my dear.” His smile and voice were smarmy, matching his attitude from Clara’s clandestine tape. “Say, aren’t you one of our hard-working librarians?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, or, I was. I’m afraid I had to resign just now.” Matt looked away from us, appearing to give us privacy, but still listening.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s too bad. May I ask why? I hope it wasn’t because the work was too difficult for you. Although, you are a young woman, living in one of the liveliest cities in all of the United States. Perhaps you’re planning to spend a little time ‘living it up,’ as it were?” He winked at me. My skin crawled.</p><p> </p><p>“No, it’s actually because of a family matter.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh?” He leaned forward expectantly, his height allowing him to tower over me.</p><p> </p><p>“Um, yes, I have to go to New Jersey, to move in with my great aunt and uncle. They need round-the-clock care.” I shifted uncomfortably. The longer I was near this man, the more unbearable he became.</p><p> </p><p>“What a good girl you are! I’ve always thought that women are natural caregivers, it makes sense that you would follow your female instincts and help them.” Anger flared in me again. I wondered if his casual sexism and repelling condescension were part of his ‘instincts.’ I highly doubted it.</p><p> </p><p>No wonder Clara hated him.</p><p> </p><p>“Well. I need to get going. It was nice to see you, President Harding.”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course! It was nice ‘running into you’ as well. Good luck with your uncle and aunt.” He nodded and smiled again, trying to appear benevolent. Some other emotion seemed to lurk behind his teeth and eyes. He walked past me without another glance into the Main Branch.</p><p> </p><p>“So that’s the New York Public Library President?” Matt asked, strolling back over to me.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes. And he’s just as awful as Clara said he was.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m honestly surprised you didn’t slap him for that ‘female instincts’ part.”</p><p> </p><p>“I would never slap President Harding. I would have punched him. In the sternum”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course, that would have been way more appropriate,” Matt chuckled.</p><p> </p><p>I started for his squad car, fuming. I decided that one thing I wouldn’t miss about the NYPL was Harding.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The next chapter has an *asterisk* because it gets steamy. Chapters with *'s will all be some level of steamy so you can avoid - or revisit - them if you'd prefer. I'll include any important plot points at the bottom of the chapters!</p><p>UPDATE September 3, 2020: In the very first chapter, I misrepresented what a Research Librarian does (because I mixed it together with collection development and management, please forgive me, fellow librarians!), so I changed the supervisor's title to reflect the update from the first chapter.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Twenty Two*</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Brooklyn visits Melissa, and IT GETS STEAMY, Y'ALL. (That's what the * is for)</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>There aren't any major plot points in this chapter, if you'd prefer to skip!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I watched the sun go down from the bedroom windows overlooking the wraparound balcony. There was a little table with two chairs out there, but the railing looked thin, and I wasn’t in the mood to try to tackle my fear of heights for a sunset.</p><p> </p><p>I had only been alone for a few hours, but they were the loneliest I had ever been through. I was in an unfamiliar home, unable to leave. I couldn’t contact anyone, not even Matt. And I had quit my job, with no idea when I could go back. <em> If </em> I could go back. I had tried to distract myself with TV, books, even music, and nothing worked.</p><p> </p><p>The world outside the window grew dark, as if it had disappeared. I walked around the apartment, looking at the paintings without really seeing them. My hands idly ran over the furniture and curtains. I changed into soft jeans, then decided to put on a silky shirt and a bra that I had bought but never worn because it was <em> not </em> for everyday wear. I opened up the refrigerator and stared at it, then closed it again. I did the same with the cabinets. And the drawers. And the closets. I was wandering around the apartment for a third time when I heard a loud knocking from the French doors in the main room leading to the balcony.</p><p> </p><p>I froze. No one should know I was here. No one should have been able to find me. And no one should be able to get to a penthouse balcony. Unless…</p><p> </p><p>I crept towards a window near the doors and slowly drew a corner of the curtain back, trying to see who was standing on the dark balcony.</p><p> </p><p>An eye stared back at me. </p><p> </p><p>I screamed, backing away from the window.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> MELISSA, CALM DOWN! IT’S ME! </em>” Brooklyn shouted, muffled by the window and curtains.</p><p> </p><p>I went back to the window and pulled back the curtain, Brooklyn standing in front of the window.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, thank goodness!” I let out a shaky breath. “You <em> scared </em> me!”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> WHAT? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> YOU SCARED ME!” </em> I shouted.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> OH. SORRY. CAN I COME IN? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>I nodded and stepped to the French Doors, unlocking them and throwing them open. Brooklyn walked in, looking at the apartment and whistling.</p><p> </p><p>“Whoa, nice setup! This place is swanky! Sorry for sca-”</p><p> </p><p>I threw my arms around his neck, hugging him tight. “How did you find me?”</p><p> </p><p>He held me close, arms around my waist. “Wish I could say something cooler, but Matt just pointed out the apartment from the clock tower.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m just happy you’re here! I’ve been here alone for <em> hours </em>. Not that a few hours is a long time...” I blushed, glad he couldn’t see me. “It feels like a long time when you’re not allowed to see or talk to anyone.” I released him and looked to the balcony. “Are the others coming?”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s just me. Sorry if that’s <em> disappointing </em>.” His voice was sad, a frown on his face. It didn’t make sense, and it wasn’t a good start to the evening. </p><p> </p><p>I went to close and lock the French Doors, trying to appear casual. “Why would spending time  with you be ‘disappointing?’”</p><p> </p><p>He groaned, and I turned in time to see him drag a hand over his face. “This is usually when it happens, I guess I was expecting you to blow me off.”</p><p> </p><p>“‘When it happens?’ What ‘happens?’”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s...it’s when...” He cleared his throat. “When the girl I care for falls for someone else, or betrays me. It’s happened before”</p><p> </p><p>“Those are two very specific things…” I waited.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, <em> fine </em> , it’s happened twice, but both times I ended up looking like a chump. A <em> loser </em>.” It was there in his voice, a deep hurt that had left scars on his heart that wouldn’t be healed by stone sleep. He hung his head, looking defeated.</p><p> </p><p>I walked over to him and gently lifted his head up with my hands.</p><p> </p><p>“Brooklyn, I don’t know what happened those other times. But I’m going to tell you this: I don’t think you’re a chump, or a loser. I think you’re brave, and strong, and funny. I think you’re almost as tough as you pretend to be, and you’re more kind than you want other people to know. We haven’t known each other very long, but I feel like I <em> already </em> know you, because you’ve shown me <em> who you are </em>, no games or gimmicks. You’ve trusted me with pieces of your heart, and I plan on keeping them safe and sound.” I took a deep breath. “I hope you’ll keep mine safe, too.”</p><p> </p><p>He looked at me as if I was made of gold, decorated with jewels, utterly and incredibly precious. He stared deep into my eyes, and I stared back. He made me feel safe, and treasured. No one else had ever made me feel like this.</p><p> </p><p>Brooklyn swept me up and held me tightly, his arms around my waist, his wings around my shoulders, pulling me into him as much as he could. It was almost hard to breathe, but I didn’t know if it was because of his embrace or because of my racing heart. Pressing up this close to him, I could feel his heart beating in <em> my </em> chest, just as fast as mine.</p><p> </p><p>I leaned into him, putting my lips to the tip of his beak. He tried to kiss me back.</p><p> </p><p>He was not successful.</p><p> </p><p>It turns out that a gargoyle’s beak, even a flexible one, is incompatible with a human’s mouth for kissing. The tips of his beak made it difficult for his lips to form a shape that would fit with mine. Instead, it felt more like someone was trying to drive the bridge of their nose into the middle of my lips. Our mouths muffled my surprised “Ow!” and I pulled away, pressing my lips together to try to ease the pain from our awkwardly attempted kiss.</p><p> </p><p>“Dammit!” He sighed and slumped his shoulders in disappointment. “I guess that’s not going to work.” He started to let go of me and pull his wings back, but I grabbed his head, halting him.</p><p> </p><p>“Wait.” I didn't know how gargoyle kissing worked, especially not for gargoyles with beaked mouths. But I <em> did </em> have an idea for something close.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve got an idea, but it might not work.” He had hope in his eyes, and longing, and worry.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m willing to try it, whatever it is.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay.” I could feel the heat creeping up my neck into my cheeks. I let out a shaky breath, equal parts excited and nervous.</p><p> </p><p>“Open your mouth.” He looked at me in confusion but did as I asked, opening his mouth slightly and making an ‘Aah’ sound like he was getting a checkup at a doctor’s office. Probably something he had learned from TV. I glanced at his tongue and saw that it was similar to mine, but slightly pointed and much longer. I also saw his fangs.</p><p> </p><p>“Stick out your tongue.”</p><p> </p><p>“What? Why?”</p><p> </p><p>I looked up from his mouth to his eyes. I could still feel my heart racing, and my blood pumped rapidly around my body. To my face. To my lips. To my stomach, and lower. The sensation made me tingle everywhere.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Trust me </em>.” My lips pulsed to the beat of my heart.</p><p> </p><p>Unsure, Brooklyn opened his mouth again and stuck out his tongue a little. It was long enough to fit the length of his beaked mouth, and luckily for me, it seemed very mobile.</p><p> </p><p>“‘ike ‘is?” He asked.</p><p> </p><p>Instead of answering, I leaned forward and put my lips around his tongue, pulling it into my mouth, tracing it with my own tongue.</p><p> </p><p>He made a surprised sound, then a pleasant purring radiated from his chest. He tightened his grip on me again, almost lifting me off my feet, wings and arms holding me flush to him. He started following my tongue’s movements with his own, getting the hang of our quasi-kiss. He leaned in closer, pushing more of his tongue into my mouth.</p><p> </p><p>I dug my fingers into his hair, opening my mouth wider, inviting him. A moan rose spontaneously in my throat. I tilted my head to move in even closer. I started to gently slide my teeth over his tongue, his purr deepening in response.</p><p> </p><p>I didn’t realize how close his teeth were until one poked my cheek. My eyes flew open and I pulled back, releasing his tongue quickly. It took Brooklyn a few seconds to realize why I had stopped. I wiped at my cheek, looking at my palm. Blood.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh.” I stared at my hand, realizing that my face must have been pushed <em> really </em> far into his mouth to get poked by one of his fangs.</p><p> </p><p>“Did I cut you with one of my teeth?!” Brooklyn looked horrified.</p><p> </p><p>“I guess so? I wasn’t really, um, ‘paying attention,’ you know?”</p><p> </p><p>Brooklyn completely released me, stepping back into a half-crouch and giving me a serious look. “We should stop.”</p><p> </p><p>“What? Why?!” I had almost stumbled when he let me go, not realizing how hard he had been holding me.</p><p> </p><p>“Because if I’m just going to keep hurting you, then I don’t want to do this.”</p><p> </p><p>I put my hands on his shoulders, giving him a serious look of my own. “But we <em> can </em> do this. We just need to go slow so we can figure out what works.”</p><p> </p><p>He bowed his head. “But if ‘figuring out what works’ ends up <em> hurting you </em> -”</p><p> </p><p>I wound my arms around his neck, pushing my forehead to his. “You’re not hurting me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Melissa.” There was a frown in his voice. Our eyes met, so close that it looked like he had one gigantic, blurry eyeball. “I’m <em> already </em> hurting you. Remember? Like, a second ago? My beak? And the <em> blood </em>?”</p><p> </p><p>I drew back, sliding my hands to his cheeks. “Look,” I said softly. “If you don’t want to do this, if you don’t want to ‘join’ with me, that’s fine. But if you <em> do </em> want to ‘join’ with me, and you’re scared of hurting me, all you need to do is <em> communicate </em>!”</p><p> </p><p>I swore I could feel the heat build up in his cheeks and see his face turn a deeper shade of red. “But, isn’t this supposed to be, uh…” He trailed off, avoiding my eyes and blushing even deeper. “Instinct? Like, I should just already know what to do?”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know what it’s like between gargoyles...” I stepped into him, looking into his eyes. “But, humans need to practice before we really know what we’re doing. And practice <em> a lot </em>.” </p><p> </p><p>“You don’t just already know?” He seemed more than a little relieved.</p><p> </p><p>“We figure it out eventually, but it <em> always </em> takes some trial and error. And communication. How about an example?”</p><p> </p><p>He perked up a little. “Example?”</p><p> </p><p>I smiled and wrapped my arms around his neck, his arms reaching to surround my waist again. I placed a soft kiss on the top of his beak, then drew back. “Was that okay?”</p><p> </p><p>“Uh, sure?”</p><p> </p><p>I moved to his cheek for the next kiss, just as soft. “Was that okay?” I asked, my voice hushed.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah…” He had no idea where this was going, and I liked that. It was like waiting for someone to open a present you got them when you knew it was something they were going to like. <em> Hopefully </em>.</p><p> </p><p>I hovered next to the lower part of his ear, my lips almost touching him. “Is this okay?”</p><p> </p><p>It took him a second to realize that I was asking if he wanted me to kiss him. “Y...yes?”</p><p> </p><p>I kissed his ear, then gently slid it between my lips, tugging it with my teeth. The purring started back up in his chest, and his wings moved to surround me again.</p><p> </p><p>I moved to the point where his jaw met his neck, my breath making him shiver. “Is this okay?” I could feel the heat coming off of his body.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes!” He answered eagerly.</p><p> </p><p>But this time when I pressed my lips to his neck, I blew into his skin to make a farting sound. He jerked and reared back. “What the hell was that?!”</p><p> </p><p>I laughed. “So, you <em> didn’t </em> like that?”</p><p> </p><p>“No! That wasn’t anything like what you did before,” he said, pouting and suspicious.</p><p> </p><p>“Then I won’t do that again.” </p><p> </p><p>I waited until I saw the understanding in his eyes. “See? Communicating doesn’t have to be difficult. It doesn’t have to be fancy like in TV or movies. We just need to ask questions, and say when something doesn’t work.” I leaned towards his ear again, whispering. “Or say when something <em> does </em> work.” I waited for his response.</p><p> </p><p>“Alright.” He cleared his throat. “Well, whatever you did to my ear, it definitely ‘works’ for me. Will you do it again?” I repeated pulling on his ear with my lips and teeth. His purring started up again. “Mmm, I think I could get used to this,” he said dreamily.</p><p> </p><p>“Good, because it’s time for you to practice on me.” His wings and arms tightened around me. I wasn’t sure if it was eagerness, or nervousness. <em> Probably both, like me </em>, I thought, glad that we were in the same boat on human-gargoyle relations.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay. Uh…” He looked in my eyes, trying to figure out where to start. “Did you like our kiss?” Color rose in his cheeks again, but not from embarrassment alone.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, I liked it <em> a lot </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“It wasn’t too much, was it? Too much of my, uh, my tongue?”</p><p> </p><p>“I <em> really </em> liked what you did with your tongue.” I looked up at him, feeling my cheeks turning red and my lips starting to pulse again.</p><p> </p><p>He smiled, proud of himself, and <em> excited </em>. “Shall we start there again?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh <em> yes </em>.” I closed my eyes, leaned in, and opened my mouth a little, waiting. He slid his tongue into my mouth and slowly leaned in until most of my mouth was filled. Another uncontrolled moan caught in my throat again, and I felt myself melting into him. He pulled back, but I kept my eyes closed, reveling in my body’s response.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m guessing that was pretty good?” I nodded, eyes still closed. I didn’t need to see his face to know that he was pleased with himself. He had every right to be pleased with himself. “Hmm, let’s do that one more time while I think of some...<em> ideas </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>His tongue was back in my mouth, but this time he was faster, and rougher, and I <em> loved </em> it. My jaw popped as I opened my mouth as wide as I could. My hands wound into his hair, lightly pulling at it. More involuntary moans kept finding their way out of my mouth, while his purring got deeper and louder, rumbling in my chest, mixing with my racing heartbeat.</p><p> </p><p>He moved one of his hands from my waist up my back to my head, fingers weaving into my hair. The other started to move down towards my waistline. As he moved his hand lower, he pressed his talons down harder. He had gotten to my lower back when my hips suddenly pushed forward, my legs trembling and a surprised hum escaping me.</p><p> </p><p>He paused, pulling his tongue back. “What happened, are you okay?” I looked up at him, eyes half-closed, my face completely flushed.</p><p> </p><p>“Do that again.”</p><p> </p><p>He raised a brow bone but pressed the same spot on my lower back. I sighed deeply, trying to press into him even more in response to his touch, my hips leading the rest of my body. My mouth hung open in an exhale that he drank in.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know what...that spot is but it feels...so...<em> so. </em> .. <em> good </em>.” I writhed as I pressed into him, soaking up the sensation, pulling harder on his hair.</p><p> </p><p>He smirked - this time reminding me of a cheesy love interest in a romance novel - and started massaging my lower back, pressing hard. All I could do was sigh and writhe into him. I dropped my hands to his chest, pressing my mouth to his collarbone to try and stifle my noises. The last thing I needed was for my new, unknown neighbors to hear me.</p><p> </p><p>He slid his other hand from the back of my head to my waist, then up my side to pause at my breast. “Is this okay?”</p><p> </p><p>His first conscious idea outside of quasi-kissing, his first time asking if his idea was a good one, and it was something I didn’t like. Why did <em> this </em> have to be the thing he started with? I stayed close to his chest and looked up at him. “No. I, um, I don’t like that.”</p><p> </p><p>He leaned back more to look at me. “Could you be a little more specific?” He was still breathing hard, but his eyes had lost that dreamy look. He was taking communicating with me very seriously. It was a relief, and it made me that much more drawn to him.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t like when my breasts are...messed with.”</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t argue or ask why. He just nodded. “Got it, I won’t do that.”</p><p> </p><p>“It just doesn’t feel good. For me.” I started babbling. I wasn’t used to someone just <em> accepting </em> that my breasts weren’t an erogenous zone for me. In the past this had ended with an awkward conversation followed by a lot of frustration and guilt.</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t have to explain, Melissa. I believe you.” But I couldn’t stop talking, no matter how much I willed myself to just shut up and get Brooklyn’s tongue back in my mouth. </p><p> </p><p>“It makes me feel sad,” I confessed.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh. That sounds like a bad thing...”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know.” I leaned my head on his shoulder to avoid looking into his eyes, my hands reaching around his waist and combing my fingers through the ends of his hair, just above the top of his kilt. “I don’t know if it’s normal, or if I’m just, maybe, weird? But,” I hesitated, unused to <em> wanting </em> to share this, “playing with my breasts makes me feel sad and I don’t want to feel sad when I’m feeling <em> good </em>. With you.” </p><p> </p><p>He hugged me tightly. “Makes sense,” he said, tucking my head beneath his chin. He pressed his cheek into my hair. “I’m really glad that you were ‘feeling good.’ Actually, at one point you even said you were feeling, how did you put it?” He leaned back to look me in the eye, brow bone cocked, “Oh yeah, ‘so, <em> so good </em>.’ Did I hear that right?”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s right,” I said with a sly smile. “So, did you think of any other <em> ideas </em>?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I thought of the breast thing, but that won’t work. I did have another idea, though,” He leaned forward again, pressing the tip of his tongue to the meeting of my lips and moving his hand to press it into my lower back again. My heart jumped at the combination, my mouth immediately opening wide for his tongue and moans bubbling up in me yet again. Moaning had made me feel self-conscious in other encounters, but with Brooklyn, it made me feel <em> sexy </em>. My hips pressed forward, harder this time, and I grabbed his hips, pulling them towards mine. My heart raced faster and faster, and I could feel his heartbeat, his purring, his breathing through my chest.</p><p> </p><p>He slipped his tongue slowly, <em> slowly </em>, out of my mouth and asked with a rumble in his throat, “You want a lift?” I wasn’t sure what he meant, but I trusted that if I didn’t like whatever he was about to do I could just tell him.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Yes </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>His arm reached down to hook under my thighs where they met my seat. He pulled me up and in. I caught on quickly, wrapping my legs around his hips, squeezing to pull myself in. His tongue roughly explored every corner of my mouth again. He tightened his arms around my waist and his wings around my shoulders, pressing into me, more moans and purrs and hums coming from both of us. I reached down and grabbed him on either side of his tail, pushing myself into him more, or pulling him into me more. I couldn’t tell, and I didn’t care. We pressed against each other like we were trying to fuse our bodies, our muscles straining with energy that was just waiting to be released.</p><p> </p><p>His tongue steadily pulsed in my mouth, pushing deep to its full extension, almost reaching my throat. My moans became more frequent, brought out by his tongue’s rough movements, while his purr had deepened into a rumble that I could now feel from my sternum to my groin in my new position. I could feel my body tremble, completely overrun by the pleasant pulses rushing all over my body. </p><p> </p><p>I pulled my mouth away from his tongue, pressing my teeth down into it more roughly than I had before, pulling on it slightly. A strong rumble pulsed from his chest, turning into a soft growl once I released him. He breathed hard, tongue hanging out of his mouth, his chest and stomach heaving and pressing against mine.</p><p> </p><p>“How, do you, like it, so far?” My panting breaths forced me to separate my words out.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s, <em> amazing </em> ,” he said between huffs of his own. He nuzzled me with his beak, giving my neck a long, slow lick. “ <em> You’re </em>, amazing.” Heat rolled off him, his breath on my neck and back as warm as summer sunshine. My muscles trembled from holding him so tightly, and I didn’t want to let go. He held me, strong and solid, and I felt like he could hold me like this for eternity if he wanted to. I shifted my hips to lean my lips to his ear, earning a rumbly hum from him.</p><p> </p><p>“Brooklyn,” I breathed huskily, running my hands from his seat, over the base of his tail, and up to his waist. “Should...I mean, do you...want to…” I felt him turn his head, listening.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you want to see what I’ve got on under my clothes?”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Hell yes </em>.” He set me down slowly, running his hands over my back and arms as he pulled back. “But, can I...ah, can I do it?”</p><p> </p><p>“You want to help me get undressed?” I smiled, feeling shy but excited. He nodded and I spread my arms. “Go ahead.”</p><p> </p><p>“Are you <em> sure </em>?” He crouched down and grinned, looking me over. “How much do you like that shirt?”</p><p> </p><p>I grinned. “I’ve got other shirts.”</p><p> </p><p>He reached up towards the neck of my shirt, then hesitated. I could see him thinking it over, brow bones lowered in concentration. He stood up and held me in his arms, hooking his chin over my shoulder. Then I felt one of his talons on the back of my neck, just above my collar. He slowly slid his talon down, cutting through fabric, trailing the tip along my skin and making me shiver. He slid his long tongue up over my collarbone, and along my neck, moving up as his talon cut lower.</p><p> </p><p>He put his hands on my shoulders, then slowly pulled my shirt down, the silky fabric easily slipping off to pool at my feet. The air felt chilly on my skin as I stood in front of him in my jeans and my bra.</p><p> </p><p>My bra was sheer, made entirely of black lace. My normal bra was also black, but fully padded, underwired, and smooth under my clothes. I had purchased this one on a whim one night. I swore to myself I’d return it, but I had ended up keeping it. I deserved something sexy, and I might actually wear it one day.</p><p> </p><p>I was very glad I had decided that “one day” was tonight.</p><p> </p><p>He crouched below me, looking up at me. “<em> Nice </em> .” I stifled the urge to laugh at his response and raised my eyebrows at him. “I, I mean, that’s, you, um…” He shook his head and looked up at me again. ”You’re <em> beautiful </em>.” </p><p> </p><p>“That’s better,” I said, my face and lips turning warm. “But you’re not done yet.” I shifted my weight from one leg to the other, the movement turning his attention to my jeans</p><p> </p><p>Instead, he surprised me by asking, “Are you planning to keep that thing on?” He motioned to my bra.</p><p> </p><p>“I...for a little bit? Why?”</p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t know if you wanted <em> me </em> to take it off of you.” He held up his hands, clicking his talons together. Talons that would rip my lacy bra to shreds, no matter how careful he was.</p><p> </p><p>“Good point.” I slowly undid the back of my bra, sliding it off to join my shirt on the floor. Now I was braless, in just jeans. I had never felt sexier.</p><p> </p><p>I lightly wrapped my hands around his horns, pulling him gently up towards me. As he stood up, his arms moved to grab me and pull me in, keeping himself nearly flush to me as he rose. His skin radiated warmth like a stone heated by the sun, and was soft like expensive leather. As soon my mouth was around his tongue, I sucked and pulled <em> hard </em>. He leaned in, matching my intensity. He started to slide his hands towards my jeans waistline, but I grabbed his wrists.</p><p> </p><p>“Hm-?”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s your turn.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh.” He stepped back, spreading his arms and wings like I had done. “I don’t have much, but what I’ve got is yours to take off.” He winked.</p><p> </p><p>Seeing him standing there, easy and eager, I realized just how comfortable he was with himself. And I realized, standing in my own near-nakedness, that I felt comfortable with myself when I was around him. I reached for the belt that held his kilt together.</p><p> </p><p>“You know,” I said, starting to unbuckle the dark leather belt, “I’ve wondered what exactly this thing looks like when it’s not on you.”</p><p> </p><p>“So you <em> have </em> wondered what I look like naked?” He lifted one brow bone and flashed a mischievous smile.</p><p> </p><p>I smiled and looked down at my hands, pulling the strap from the buckle. “You’re not wrong.” I tossed his belt gently to the side.</p><p> </p><p>The kilt was two pieces instead of one. The top layer was one length of fabric with three long, triangular points. The middle piece went in the front, while the other two triangles overlapped in the back, laying on opposite sides of his tail. I folded the top piece in half and tossed it to the side as well. The layer underneath looked similar to my own underwear, but it was far baggier. The back dipped low to accommodate his tail, with two sides coming to overlap above it. When it was being cinched by the belt, it could fit as tight or as loosely as he wanted. Without the belt, it was one tug from falling off completely.</p><p> </p><p>We stood face to face, equally undressed. One of the lamps backlit him, emphasizing his outline. Suddenly, as I stood half naked in front of him, I was very, <em> very </em> aware of how different our bodies were. Certain things seemed like they would line up, but others could get in the way. Could he lie down comfortably with his wings? If he couldn’t lie down on his wings, would his legs get in the way on the other side? Just how wary did I need to be of his horns, his fangs, his <em> talons </em>?</p><p> </p><p>We must have had the same thought at the same moment, because I saw doubt and uncertainty in his eyes, at the corners of his mouth, and in the tensing of his shoulders. We had both been so confident a few minutes ago, but suddenly, we were both shy.</p><p> </p><p>“Brooklyn...I don’t know where we go from here…I’m not sure what’s next.”</p><p> </p><p>He pulled his wings closed behind him. “I don’t know either.” He looked unsure, and disappointed. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry.” I crossed my arms in front of me, covering the breasts that I was suddenly no longer comfortable showing. I walked over to the large leather couch and sat down, staring at my feet.</p><p> </p><p>Brooklyn sat down next to me. “What does that ‘I’m sorry’ stand for this time?”</p><p> </p><p>“...It means I wish it was easier to figure out how to keep going.”</p><p> </p><p>He hung his head low. “If I was a human, this would be a lot easier.”</p><p> </p><p>“If I was a <em> gargoyle </em>, this would be a lot easier.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’d probably make a pretty good gargoyle,” he said, smiling. “And you’d be a <em> hot </em> one.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh? So you <em> don’t </em> think I’m hot as a human?”</p><p> </p><p>“What?! No, I -”</p><p> </p><p>“‘No,’ I <em> am </em> hot as a human, or ‘no,’ I <em> wouldn’t </em> make a good gargoyle?”</p><p> </p><p>“Wait, you’re confusing me!”</p><p> </p><p>I giggled, bumping his shoulder with mine. “I’m <em> kidding </em>!”</p><p> </p><p>He groaned but smiled, just a little.</p><p> </p><p>I reached for his hand, holding it tightly. He squeezed my hand back. “Brooklyn, I don’t want to give up on this.” I leaned my head on his shoulder. “On <em> us </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t want to give up on us either. So, what do we do now?”</p><p> </p><p>“I think we’ve got time for one more quasi-kiss, then we should get dressed and head to the clocktower.”</p><p> </p><p>“To the clocktower?”</p><p> </p><p>“I assume there are leads we can follow up on?”</p><p> </p><p>“Right. But I’m here to protect you while the others check on those leads. We’re supposed to stay here and keep you safe."</p><p> </p><p>I was disappointed. “So we won’t be joining the investigation tonight.”</p><p> </p><p>He shook his head. "But, I like the part of the plan that includes kissing you.” He put his arms and his wings around me, leaning his head on top of mine. “And what about <em> after </em> that?”</p><p> </p><p>“After that...if we really can’t join tonight’s investigation...I’d like to keep trying. If you’re up for it. It’ll probably be awkward. Possibly <em> really </em> awkward.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve got a lot of pride, but I can put it aside for some ‘<em> quality </em>’ time with you.” He tilted my head up, looking into my eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“Good.” We leaned in, our tongues dancing in a slow, deep quasi-kiss.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Twenty Three</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Goliath and the gang pay a visit to Xanatos and solve some puzzles.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Goliath, Broadway, and Lexington waited outside of the range of Xanatos’ security cameras and cannons. They had seen the metal gargoyles - the ones made to look like Goliath - patrolling the walls of Castle Wyvern. They had once called Castle Wyvern their home, but soon after being awoken by Xanatos, they had lost it. To a human. A human bent on destroying them.</p><p> </p><p>So, a fairly typical human.</p><p> </p><p>Goliath and Detective Bluestone had decided that it would be best for the detective to approach Xanatos first, then radio to the gargoyles if it was safe to join him. Lexington had fashioned two listening devices, originally meant to keep Goliath in contact with Elisa. One could be pinned to the inside of a jacket, and the other hung like a necklace around Goliath’s neck. Each device had a small earpiece, almost invisible to the naked eye.</p><p> </p><p>It wouldn’t be invisible to Xanatos. Either he, or his servant, Owen, was sure to spot it. But Detective Bluestone had planned on that. He didn’t intend to hide the gargoyles’ involvement, or their hesitancy to enter their enemy’s lair without some sort of assurance of their safety.</p><p> </p><p>Goliath listened carefully to Detective Bluestone’s conversation with Owen, as he was being escorted to Xanatos’ office. Owen was a stoic human of few words. The kind of human Goliath might have respected, had he not been loyal to David Xanatos. Owen had asked Detective Bluestone why he wanted to see Xanatos, but the detective refused to tell him. Owen’s voice did not come through in response, so most likely he had stayed silent.</p><p> </p><p>“Detective Bluestone!” Xanatos’ voice sounded warm and friendly. Goliath frowned, unable to hide his distaste for the man. “What can I do for you this evening?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, Mr. Xanatos, I was hoping you would do me - and some of our mutual friends - a favor.”</p><p> </p><p>“A favor, you say?” There was a pause. “I’m intrigued. Why don’t you tell our ‘friends’ to join us?”</p><p> </p><p>“I will, once those heavy-duty lasers up there are turned off.” Goliath heard Xanatos' smug chuckle.</p><p> </p><p>“Very well. Owen?”</p><p> </p><p>Goliath watched the cannons descend back into the building. He nodded to the others, and they glided into the courtyard of the castle and entered, keeping an eye out for guards, human or robotic. It would be just like Xanatos to ‘forget’ to call them off, but no one stopped them. Owen held the office door open for them. Goliath remained wary.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, now that we’re all here, tell me what this favor is. I’m dying to know.” Xanatos remained seated behind his desk, a smug smile on his face, his hands templed in front of him. Owen came to stand at his side.</p><p> </p><p>“We need you to-” Xanatos held a hand up, stopping Detective Bluestone.</p><p> </p><p>“I’d like <em>Goliath</em> to tell me what this favor is.” Goliath growled, and Xanatos’ smile grew wider and more smug.</p><p> </p><p>“Xanatos. We need...your <em> help </em>...to solve a puzzle. It appears that you are the only person we can turn to for assistance.”</p><p> </p><p>Xanatos stood and turned, clasping his hands behind him as he stared out the huge glass windows at the city spread in front of him. “A puzzle? Curious. Normally, you wouldn’t come to <em> me </em> with something as trivial as a puzzle. Obviously, the answer to said puzzle must be <em> extremely important </em> to you. The answer wouldn’t happen to be,” he turned to look at Goliath, “a clue that could lead you to Detective Maza’s location?”</p><p> </p><p>The group remained silent. “She <em> is </em> missing, correct?” Xanatos prompted.</p><p> </p><p>Goliath lunged forward, sinking his talons into the desk between him and his enemy. “<em> Have you taken her?! </em>” His growl was deep and vicious, but Xanatos merely held up his hands and smiled.</p><p> </p><p>“No, my angry friend. I don’t have Detective Maza, nor do I know where she is. I do know that she’s been missing for…” he paused, pretending to calculate the answer he already knew. “Five nights, four days?”</p><p> </p><p>“Did you already know we’d come to you for answers?” Matt interjected, stepping up to pull Goliath back from the desk. Goliath roughly pulled his talons from the desk, but remained standing at its edge. Owen glared at him, but Goliath ignored him. All of his attention was on Xanatos.</p><p> </p><p>“Honestly? No. And I’m curious to see what this puzzle is. Besides, I’d truly like to help you find Detective Maza. I know I’ve had my run-ins with her in the past, but she’s a good detective. The kind of detective that makes our city better. And, I’m always happy to do a <em> favor </em> for a <em> friend </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“You do a favor for us, then we owe you one. Just like the movies,” Broadway grumbled.</p><p> </p><p>“Correct. But, in the name of an equal, mutual friendship, of course.” Xanatos smiled. “So, where’s this puzzle you want me to help you with?”</p><p> </p><p>Lexington held up the golden disk. “Look familiar?”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s a disk, although I can’t say I’ve ever seen a golden one. We can probably access it using my computer. May I?” He held his hand out for the disk, but Lexington held it out of his reach.</p><p> </p><p>“I think <em> I </em> should be the one to access it. There’s no telling what <em> you </em> would do to the disk.”</p><p> </p><p>“Lexington, it hurts that you don’t trust me, but if you insist, I won’t stand in your way.” He motioned to the plush office chair behind his desk. Lexington wheeled it over to the humongous computer terminal on the side of the room, glaring at Xanatos suspiciously the entire time.</p><p> </p><p>“Alright, here we go.” Lexington sat in the chair, inserted the disk into the computer, and cracked his knuckles. “Time to see what’s on this disk!”</p><p> </p><p>The logo on top of the disk - the diamond with a pair of crossed swords, a flame, a skull, and a bird in flight, appeared on the screen. Then, the icons within the diamond started flashing rapidly, then remained steady, then flashed rapidly again.</p><p> </p><p>“Interesting…” Xanatos looked at the screen, watching the icons flash. After a few cycles, he made the first observation: “The icons flash seven times, then stop for seven seconds, then repeat.”</p><p> </p><p>“They don’t just flash,” Lexington added, eyes glued to the monitor. “They change!”</p><p> </p><p>Xanatos stared at the screen, waiting for the next cycle. “You’re right! Each icon changes to something different, but only in one flash per cycle.” He watched it again. “And the icons don’t change on the same flash, they all change at different times.”</p><p> </p><p>The group stared at the screen until they agreed on what the icons changed into: the pair of crossed swords changed to a single large sword; the flame changed into a pair of scales like ones depicted in courthouses; the skull changed to a bow and a crown; and the bird changed into a creature with three heads.</p><p> </p><p>Underneath the flashing diamonds were five blank squares, where the passcode was supposed to be entered.</p><p> </p><p>“Is the password 7 7 7 7 7?” Broadway guessed.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t touch that keyboard!” Xanatos almost grabbed Lexington’s arm as he reached to try Broadway’s suggestion. “We don’t know how many attempts we have. We need to be absolutely <em> sure </em> for our first guess. I don’t think that whoever put this together would just use 7 7 7 7 7 as the password.”</p><p> </p><p>Lexington frowned but nodded, tugging his arm out of Xanatos' grasp. “Yeah, that makes sense. What’s your guess, then?”</p><p> </p><p>Xanatos shook his head. “I’m not sure yet. Do we have any other information about this disk?”</p><p> </p><p>“We got it from Tony Dracon. He called it an ‘invitation’ and said it got sent to him every year, but he never bothered trying to solve it. He also implied that it was an invitation to a party that had to do with victims of kidnappings.” Matt stood with his arms crossed, eyes on the screen but unfocused.</p><p> </p><p>“Tony Dracon also said that these invitations were sent by ‘The Four Horsemen,’” Goliath added.</p><p> </p><p>“The Four Horsemen, from the Bible?” Xanatos seemed surprised.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, he said it was something like that.” Broadway shook his head. “I don’t see what that book has to do with this, though. Some of the humans were <em> obsessed </em> with it a thousand years ago.”</p><p> </p><p>“Lots of humans are still obsessed with it,” Xanatos replied. “I doubt that this group is referring to it for religious affiliation, though. So why use a biblical reference?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not sure who these ‘Four Horsemen’ from the book are supposed to be, but it seems a little <em> dramatic </em>. Maybe it’s just for flair?” Lexington sounded unsure.</p><p> </p><p>“Or maybe…” Xanatos turned to Owen. “Owen, could you please get a copy of the Bible from my library? I’m sure I have at least one, somewhere.”</p><p> </p><p>Owen returned a few moments later with a large, black book, bound in leather. Xanatos took it and opened it near the back, flipping through pages as thin as onion skin, covered with small writing.</p><p> </p><p>“Aha!” He tapped his finger on the book, finding the page he was searching for. “They’re mentioned in Revelation. Let’s see…” He looked from the book to the computer monitor. “I’ll try to find ‘scales’ in here, it could give us a place to start from.”</p><p> </p><p>The room was silent, watching him read.</p><p> </p><p>“Here! Chapter six, verse five: ‘When the Lamb opened the third seal, I heard the third living creature say “Come!” I looked, and there before me was a black horse! Its rider was holding a pair of scales in his hand.’ We’ve got the scales <em> and </em> one of the Horsemen. What are the other icons, again?”</p><p> </p><p>“A big sword, a bow and crown, and a three-headed something.” Lexington spun the chair so he could face Xanatos, but cast a glance at Owen. He had to keep an eye on the disk, and he didn’t trust Xanatos <em>or</em> his right-hand man.</p><p> </p><p>“There’s a ‘big sword’ in verse four, a bow and crow in verse two. But there isn’t a ‘three-headed thing.’”</p><p> </p><p>“But, it’s got to be linked with the four guys, right? So what does the fourth guy have?” Broadway tried to read over Xanatos’ shoulder but couldn't see, much to his annoyance.</p><p> </p><p>“The fourth rider is in verse eight. It doesn’t look like he has anything with him, especially not anything with three heads, but...this is odd,” Xanatos flipped the page back and forth, reading over the passage. “It says that ‘Hades was following close behind him.’”</p><p> </p><p>“Why is a mythological Greek god mentioned in the Bible?” Matt wondered.</p><p> </p><p>“There was a book about the Greek gods in the Civic Center's library that I looked over.” Goliath closed his eyes, thinking back. “I believe he had...a dog?”</p><p> </p><p>“A dog with <em> three </em> heads!” Xanatos’ eyes sharpened as he put the last clue together. “One chapter, four verses, five blanks. Lexington, try 6 2 4 5 8.”</p><p> </p><p>Lexington typed in the numbers, then held his breath as he quickly pushed the ‘Enter’ key.</p><p> </p><p>The icon disappeared, and in its place was a circle with a five-point star inside it, each with a circle inside the point, with another circle in the center of the star. The circle in the top point of the star blinked red, while the others were blank.</p><p> </p><p>“Is the blinking red a good thing or a bad thing? Shouldn’t it be green if we got it right?” Broadway asked, worried.</p><p> </p><p>Lexington stared at the monitor, but Xanatos answered him. “I think it’s probably a good thing. Red is more dramatic, which seems to be on-brand for this group.”</p><p> </p><p>Lexington pushed the ‘Enter’ key again, and a new screen appeared.</p><p> </p><p>On it were six words. “Oh, Chariot!” was printed at the top, followed by a list of words: White, Dappled, Red, Black.</p><p> </p><p>“Is this also about the Horsemen?” Goliath asked.</p><p> </p><p>Matt looked at the list, confused. “I think so, but it’s weird that one of the horses is described as ‘dappled.’ That means spotted, but none of the four horses of the Horsemen are spotted. The fourth one is called ‘pale.’ I think the clue is in ‘Chariot’ and ‘dappled.’”</p><p> </p><p>Xanatos flipped to the back of the book once more, but sighed. “Owen, can you go back to my library and see if I’ve got a concordance for the Bible? It’s a long shot, but it could be <em> really </em> helpful right now.”</p><p> </p><p>“I believe you have one, sir. I’ll retrieve it for you.” The servant quickly left.</p><p> </p><p>“What on earth is a ‘concordance?’” Lexington asked Xanatos, remaining by the computer.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, it’s kind of like an index. Sometimes they’re included, sometimes they’re an entirely separate book. It takes specific words from a text and lists every line from the book that mentions it.”</p><p> </p><p>“That doesn’t seem very useful,” Matt said doubtfully.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Au contraire </em> ,” Xanatos said smoothly as Owen returned, this time bringing an even larger book with him, easily the size of two telephone books. “It’s <em> perfect </em> for when you need to find every obscure mention of a word like ‘chariot’ in a text as long as the Bible. I’ve got one that covers all the Shakespeare plays. If you want to look up how many times and in what plays he used the word ‘strumpet,’ then you need a concordance. That one’s much bigger than this one.” He patted the enormous book that Owen had placed on his desk.</p><p> </p><p>“Sir, if you’ll allow me?” Owen motioned to the Biblical concordance.</p><p> </p><p>“Excellent idea, Owen, you handle the concordance. Now, tell me what we’ve got for the word ‘chariot,’ and see if you can relate it to colors or horses.”</p><p> </p><p>The group was silent once again, as Owen flipped through the gigantic book on the desk. Goliath had started to pace, slowly, looking out of the window at the sky, watching for signs of dawn. He hoped this wouldn’t take the entire night.</p><p> </p><p>“This might be something,” Owen said suddenly, sliding his finger across a line of text. “Sir, try Zechariah chapter six, verse two.”</p><p> </p><p>Xanatos flipped to the verse. “‘The first chariot had red horses, the second black,’ etcetera, and...here’s the word ‘dappled!’ Excellent work, Owen! Now, let’s see if we can find something to enter into those blanks up there.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s no wonder Tony gave up trying to solve this. He definitely wouldn’t have gotten past the first part,” Matt commented dryly as Xanatos read.</p><p> </p><p>“Alright, Lexington, ready?” Xanatos kept an eye on the words in the book in front of him. “Try West for White, South for Dappled, North for Black, and…”he glanced over the words again, “East for Red, I guess. It isn’t mentioned here.”</p><p> </p><p>“So each color represents a direction?” Lexington asked as he typed. “Why?”</p><p> </p><p>“It says that some chariots were led by different colored horses that were sent to various directions. Although it mentions red horses in the second verse, it doesn’t mention them again. There’s only one cardinal direction left over, though, so it must be a match.”</p><p> </p><p>Lexington pressed the key, and the image of the pentagram came up again. But, instead of a second circle flashing red, a skull appeared outside of the circle, above the upper-left point of the star.</p><p> </p><p>They stared at it silently, before the screen returned to the ‘Oh Chariot’ puzzle.</p><p> </p><p>“It appears as though wehave a limited number of mistakes we can make,” Goliath remarked. “We should proceed as if we only have five mistakes. Four, now.”</p><p> </p><p>“One for each point of the star,” Matt chimed in. He shook his head angrily. “We should probably assume that we only have one wrong answer per puzzle, too.”</p><p> </p><p>“This one must have been a trick question,” Broadway said glumly.</p><p> </p><p>“Agreed. Lexington, try it again, but don’t put anything in for Red.” Xanatos repeated the answers to Lexington, leaving the space next to ‘Red’ blank.</p><p> </p><p>This time, when Lexington hit the key, the pentagram appeared with the circle in the top-left point blinking red. The skull also remained above the top-left point.</p><p> </p><p>“Two down, at least three more to go, probably more.” Xanatos took a deep breath. “Owen, we better make some coffee. This could take a while.”</p><p> </p><p>A poem appeared on the next screen. Goliath read it aloud.</p><p>“The doctor wrote, </p><p>the prophet claimed, </p><p>secrets in darkness spoke, </p><p>from roofs are made plain. </p><p> </p><p>But secrets are nought, </p><p>the doctor spelled, </p><p>compared to fear wrought, </p><p>by the one sending souls to Hell.”</p><p> </p><p>An odd arrangement of blanks and symbols was at the bottom under the poem: _ _ _ _  _ _ :_ - _</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not sure what to make of this one,” Xanatos admitted. “The Bible mentions all of these things, doctors, secrets, souls, Hell. Even the concordance might not help with this one.”</p><p> </p><p>Owen arrived with a coffee service, handing an already made cup to Xanatos while Matt and Broadway made their own. Matt put a hand on Broadway’s arm before he could take his first sip, instead holding his mug out to Owen. “Just to make sure it tastes alright,” he said, staring at Xanatos.</p><p> </p><p>Owen looked to Xanatos, who shrugged. “If it will make our guests more comfortable, go ahead. In fact, why don’t you make yourself a cup, Owen?”</p><p> </p><p>“He can have <em> this </em> one,” Matt said sternly, pushing the mug into Owen’s hands. He stared at the stoic blonde man, waiting.</p><p> </p><p>Owen seemed unphased, sipping the coffee. “I prefer to take mine without cream or sugar, but I suppose I should say thank you. Although, I don’t know why you are so suspicious. You are here as a friend of Mr. Xanatos, after all.” He locked eyes with Matt, a sharp gleam in them.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re welcome,” Matt said warily, turning back to make another cup for himself. The coffee, sugar, and cream appeared to be untainted, but it never hurt to be sure.</p><p> </p><p>They turned back to the poem. Owen adjusted his glasses as he looked at the screen.</p><p> </p><p>“‘The doctor wrote,’ I know there are doctors and healers mentioned in the Bible, but I don’t know how many of them are mentioned <em> writing </em>,” Xanatos reasoned.</p><p> </p><p>“Sir?” Owen looked to Xanatos. “I believe one of the writers of the Gospels was a doctor. Could that be who the poem is referring to?”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course! <em> Luke </em> was a doctor! He was also Greek and was <em> not </em> originally Jewish.” Matt looked at Xanatos curiously, and he shrugged. “I was forced to learn odd facts in Sunday School classes. Greek Orthodox, you know?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ah. I grew up Irish Catholic, but I think I can relate,” Matt said grudgingly. “Nothing like religion to bring people together.”</p><p> </p><p>“Or tear them apart.” Xanatos had a wry smile on his face. “So, if Luke is our man, how do we use him to fill in those blanks?”</p><p> </p><p>Broadway pointed at the screen, bouncing his finger to follow the blanks while whispering to himself. “I think that the first four blanks are ‘Luke,’ it fits perfectly!”</p><p> </p><p>Xanatos nodded. “Alright, but the other spaces?”</p><p> </p><p>“Perhaps we should consult the concordance,” Goliath suggested. “I am unfamiliar with the contents of that book,” he gestured to the Bible in Xanatos’ hands, “but surely there are enough unique words in this poem to find what it refers to.”</p><p> </p><p>Owen once again flipped through the concordance. This time, it took much less time to find the verses hinted at by the poem. The word ‘roof’ appeared a few times, but not in relation to darkness or secrets. When they looked at ‘darkness,’ though, they found the verses they were looking for.</p><p> </p><p>“L U K E  1 2 : 1 - 5” earned them another blinking circle, in the bottom-left point.</p><p> </p><p>The next screen appeared: “Two men were walking in a garden. Suddenly, a fire broke out, dividing the two men. One man disappeared, and the other tore his clothes and never saw his father again. What happened? 2k=2/11-12” Below it was a line of nine spaces.</p><p> </p><p>“What is this? A math problem?!” Broadway groaned.</p><p> </p><p>Lexington stared at the screen, intrigued. “I’ve got the answer!” He typed in “-1” and hit ‘Enter’ before anyone could stop him.</p><p> </p><p>A second skull appeared, above the bottom-right point.</p><p> </p><p>“What the <em> hell </em> was that, Lexington?!” Xanatos’ smooth facade slipped in his fury.</p><p> </p><p>“But, I don’t understand! That’s the right answer! k=-1!” Lexington stared at the monitor, completely confused. “Give me some paper, I’ll prove it!”</p><p> </p><p>Owen fetched paper, pencil, and a calculator, but Lexington only took the pencil and paper. He wrote out the formula, then each step in the math problem that led to his answer, explaining as he went:</p><p>2k=2/(11-12) </p><p>“So, 2k equals 2 divided by the result of 11 minus 12. Our objective is to figure out what k is, so we need to start with the part in the parentheses. 11 minus 12 is a negative, making it negative 1.”</p><p>2k=2/-1 </p><p>“Now 2k equals 2 divided by negative 1. 2 divided by 1 is just 2, but since it’s a <em> negative </em> 1, the answer ends up being negative.”</p><p>2k=-2 </p><p>“That makes it 2k equals negative 2. We divide both sides by 2 to get just k. 2 divided by 2 is 1, but again, there’s a negative number there, so it ends up being <em> negative </em> 1.”</p><p>k=-1</p><p>“So k equals negative 1! That’s the answer!!” Lexington threw down the pencil and held his head in his hands. “I don’t understand why that didn’t work!”</p><p> </p><p>Broadway picked up the paper and squinted at it. “Well, it looks good to <em> me </em>, Lex. I’m stumped!”</p><p> </p><p>Lexington leaned his head to one side, looking over at Broadway. “Thanks. Sorry I answered it without thinking. I mean, I <em> thought </em> about it, but I didn’t think about if it was the <em> answer </em> .” He stared up at the screen. “So, what now? It’s a math problem, but the answer <em> isn’t </em> the actual answer.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not <em> just </em> a math problem,” Xanatos said testily. “You completely ignored the written part <em> before </em> the math problem. ‘k=-1’ doesn’t even fill in the spaces!”</p><p> </p><p>“Well what does it mean, then?!” Lexington shot back.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Guys </em>! The answer is ‘whirlwind.’” Everyone in the room turned to look at Matt. “Xanatos got Doctor Luke, I get ‘Elijah’s dad disappeared in a whirlwind while they were walking in the garden.’ Sunday School.” He nodded to Xanatos, who nodded back.</p><p> </p><p>“You both seemed to have learned a lot in this ‘Sunday School,’” Goliath commented warily.</p><p> </p><p>“They throw a lot of information at you, but the only things that stick are the really weird things.” Matt looked back over to Xanatos. “Like Ehud, am I right?”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Ehud </em> , I’d forgotten about him!” He looked over at the confused gargoyles. “He was a left-handed guy who stabbed a really fat king in the stomach. And he’s the <em> hero </em> of the story.”</p><p> </p><p>The gargoyles were stunned, silent until Goliath shook his head. “Humans are very strange.” The other two nodded in agreement. They didn’t notice that Owen nodded, too.</p><p> </p><p>Another point on the star glowed with a red circle, while two skulls hung around it. At least two more to go.</p><p> </p><p>The next screen appeared, simply saying “Jeremiah 15:2.” Below that was a list of four words: Starvation, Sword, Captivity, Death, each with a blank beside them. Below that was one more blank.</p><p> </p><p>They looked at Xanatos, who was quickly flipping to the verse. He smiled. “We might be in luck, friends. The blanks next to each word should just be the word again. And if I had to guess, the last blank should be ‘destiny.’”</p><p> </p><p>“Before we just hit ‘enter,’ maybe we should read the verse just to make sure? We’re getting down to the wire, here.” Xanatos nodded at Matt. Perhaps the two men had a newfound regard for one another. Nothing as serious as respect, but one mutual connection, of a childhood where Sundays were <em> not </em> a day to sleep in.</p><p> </p><p>Xanatos read aloud: “Those destined for death, to death; those for the sword, to the sword; those for starvation, to starvation; those for captivity, to captivity.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Wait </em>,” Broadway shouted. “What if this is another trick question? The words on the screen aren’t in the same order as the words in the book!”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s a good catch, Broadway!” Lexington smirked at Xanatos, pleased that <em> Xanatos </em> was the one who might have earned their next skull if it hadn’t been for Broadway’s quick thinking.</p><p> </p><p>Xanatos shrugged nonchalantly. “That’s not a bad point, Broadway. Let’s try it your way, first.”</p><p> </p><p>Broadway had been right. All of the circles within the star’s five points now blinked red. The two skulls remained, and the circle in the center of the pentagram remained unlit. They were close.</p><p> </p><p>The next screen: “We were rebels, we were enemies of the king, we were powerless. They tried to burn us but could not. We emerged to praise, to love, and to power. Name us. AHDARHCSCHMASHEEAEBNODG.” Three blanks waited below the puzzle.</p><p> </p><p>They all groaned. Broadway peered at the string of letters at the end of the puzzle, trying to sound out the nonsense word. Xanatos stopped him with a wave of his hand. “Broadway, that’s not a word, it’s a string of letters. The answer is whatever those letters spell out.”</p><p> </p><p>“Looks like it’s supposed to be three different words,” Matt said, putting a hand to his chin. “I was never any good at word jumbles. Any chance there’s another angle?” They started talking about the word 'burn,' thinking over the fire imagery, but arriving nowhere.</p><p> </p><p>Owen began cleaning up the coffee service. As he did, he hummed. The song was bouncy, jazzy, but old-fashioned. The rest of the group tried to discuss what three words were hidden in the string of letters, ignoring him. He continued humming, louder and louder. He began to sing snippets of the song under his breath. “.<em>..took a little trip to the land of Babylon...took a lot of gold and made an idol...And he told everybody ‘when you hear the music of the trombone’...</em>”</p><p> </p><p>“Owen, we’re trying to think. Can you please -” Xanatos suddenly looked up from the paper he had been scribbling on, trying to sort out the words. “Owen! What song is that?”</p><p> </p><p>Owen turned to look at Xanatos, stoic yet repentant. “My apologies, Mr. Xanatos. I didn’t realize I was singing aloud. It’s just an old song.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, but <em> what is it called </em>, Owen?” Xanatos’ eyes burned as hot as a fever. Or, a furnace.</p><p> </p><p>“I believe it’s called ‘Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego,’ sir.”</p><p> </p><p>Xanatos looked back down to the paper, writing furiously, crossing letters out as he rearranged them. Then he stopped. He carefully laid the pencil down, and picked up the piece of paper, holding it up proudly. “Owen, you have once again proved how invaluable you are to me. Lexington! Enter that into the computer!”</p><p> </p><p>Lexington looked over the words ‘Shadrach,’ ‘Meshach,’ and ‘Abednego,’ carefully typing out the strange names. Owen no longer hummed the tune, but quietly returned to cleaning up the coffee service. No one noticed him smirking as he left the room.</p><p> </p><p>The pentagram appeared again. The center circle blinked.</p><p> </p><p>Another screen appeared. “Of course it’d be <em> seven </em> puzzles,” Lexington sighed.</p><p> </p><p>What they hoped was the final puzzle appeared: “God. Master. Choose.”</p><p> </p><p>They all stared at the screen, dumbfounded.</p><p> </p><p>“Uh, any chance that there’s a clue in there at all?” Lexington asked hopefully.</p><p> </p><p>“No idea,” Xanatos said, shaking his head. “This whole time we’ve been going through using <em> this </em> ” he shook the leather-bound book in his hands, “just to be outwitted by some sort of <em> koan </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“A what?” Broadway asked, confused.</p><p> </p><p>Xanatos sighed, irritated. “‘What’s the sound of one hand clapping?’”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, I’ve heard that one before! Let’s see...”Broadway looked at his hands.</p><p> </p><p>“Or how about, ‘If a tree falls in the woods and no one is around to hear it, does it really make a sound?’”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve heard that too, but I guess I’ve never thought about it. Um…” Broadway scratched his head. “I don’t know...yes?”</p><p> </p><p>“There’s no right answer.” Broadway groaned, but Xanatos continued. “It’s a paradox, a question that you can’t just <em> logic </em> your way out of. It makes you really <em> think </em> . Those examples probably sound silly, but they’re the best known <em> koan </em> . And <em> that </em> -” he gestured angrily at the monitor, “makes about as much sense as a one-handed round of applause.”</p><p> </p><p>The group was quiet, thinking. It was late in the evening, so late that even the gargoyles were starting to feel tired and thinking about returning to the clock tower.</p><p> </p><p>“No.”</p><p> </p><p>They all turned to look at Goliath.</p><p> </p><p>“‘No?’ ‘No’ <em> what </em>?” Xanatos studied Goliath, waiting for his response.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s the answer. ‘No.’”</p><p> </p><p>“Goliath, are you serious? You think we should type ‘No’ into the computer?” Matt rubbed a hand over his face, tired and irritated. “<em> Why </em>?”</p><p> </p><p>Goliath folded his arms, confident. “The library.” The group stared at him. “The Civic Center library. One of the books I read was by the philosopher Nietzsche, <em> Beyond Good and Evil </em>. The original phrase is French.”</p><p> </p><p>Matt snapped his fingers. “It’s that anarchist phrase! ‘No gods, no masters!’ Goliath’s right!” He turned to the rest of the group. “The answer is ‘No!’”</p><p> </p><p>Lexington looked at everyone worriedly. “Are we sure about this?”</p><p> </p><p>Xanatos sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose to ward off a headache. “At this point, it’s our best shot.”</p><p> </p><p>Lexington typed the two letters slowly, then paused above the ‘Enter’ key, looking at everyone one more time. They all nodded. This was it.</p><p> </p><p>Lexington pressed the key. The pentagram appeared.</p><p> </p><p>Only this time, the two skulls slowly faded away, and the entire circle lit up in red, the lines of the star and the smaller circles changing to white.</p><p> </p><p>“We did it!” Broadway jumped, excited that they had beat the final puzzle. “Now we’ll find out where Elisa is!”</p><p> </p><p>The monitor suddenly cut off as all of the lights in the building went out. Goliath looked around, immediately on alert, his eyes glowing white. Broadway and Lexington’s eyes were also white, ready to fight whatever caused the sudden blackout. Matt drew his gun, pointing it at the floor, knowing it was useless to shoot something he couldn’t see.</p><p> </p><p>“Wonderful,” Xanatos said calmly. Goliath briefly wondered if this was Xanatos’ work, another ruse to fool them into thinking he, too, was helpless, while secretly keeping Elisa hostage. Or, it was an ambush.</p><p> </p><p>Instead, the monitor clicked back on. A single line in white text illuminated the otherwise dark room.</p><p>42*17'11.7"N 74*05'16.2"W</p><p>They knew where the Four Horsemen were going to throw their party in two days.</p><p> </p><p>And Elisa would be there.</p><p><br/>
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</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Whew! Hope you made it through all of that! I tried to write this so that it would be complicated to even a medium-intense practicing Christian would have trouble answering the puzzles. So, if you were confused, or even if you were totally lost (especially if you're unfamiliar with Christianity), don't worry! Hopefully you were still able to enjoy the interactions between the characters &lt;3</p><p>This chapter was a lot of fun for me to write, not only to figure out how to write out the puzzles, but also because of looking up the biblical content! I was part of a Christian church for /years/, and studied religions in college (focusing on the Old Testament, then branching out into other religions like Buddhism and Hinduism). I don't actively practice a religion anymore, but they are /fascinating/ and I was so excited to put together some of the really /weird/ things from there!</p><p>Like Ehud, am I right? ;) [Judges 3:12-30]</p><p>You know what would be cool? Learning more about religions by checking out books from your local public library! (Yes, I /am/ going to push using your local library right here, right now). COVID-19 has caused most (all?) public library systems to close their physical locations, but many libraries /also/ have digital collections! Consider browsing the eBooks and audiobooks available from your library! Stay safe, stay healthy, stay entertained! </p><p>Much love,<br/>Breaker</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Twenty Four (An Author Interlude)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>What does "author interlude" mean? It was my fancy way of saying "Hey, I want to explain something before the next chapter!!!!"</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The next chapter will be NSFW, and it's inspired by another work that I want to credit. If you plan on skipping that chapter, you can also skip this one if you'd like! Although I would love for you to see the other author's work, so that you know one of the direct inspirations for this piece!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>This upcoming chapter was directly inspired and influenced and informed by a <em> very </em> NSFW <em>Mass Effect</em> Shakarian fancomic called <strong>"First Contact" by ReginaPrimata</strong> that I originally saw on tumblr <em> years </em> ago, then lost, then FOUND AGAIN RIGHT HERE ON AO3! Here’s the link to the author's page! <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReginaPrimata/pseuds/ReginaPrimata">https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReginaPrimata/pseuds/ReginaPrimata </a></p><p> </p><p>"First Contact" by ReginaPrimata has inspired how Brooklyn and Melissa interact, and has also <em>directly</em> inspired what I imagine Brooklyn's *ahem* anatomy to be (as in, it would make sense <em>to me</em> for gargoyle anatomy to be identical to Turian anatomy). Interaction-wise, I love, love, LOVE the way they depict Shepard and Garrus’ night together, because it’s so wonderfully imperfect and they have to communicate in order to get their “quality” time together and it's awkward but also great. Anatomy-wise, somewhere on the original tumblr FAQ (I think), ReginaPrimata explained why they depicted Garrus’ *ahem* anatomy the way they did, and when I got the idea for my fic, I immediately thought back to that FAQ and the comic!</p><p> </p><p>I have tried my hardest to make sure that this upcoming chapter, although inspired by ReginaPrimata’s "First Contact," is my own. BUT, as an actual librarian, I want to acknowledge (aka cite) the original source as a way of telling <em>you</em> where the idea came from, and as a way of saying "thank you" to ReginaPrimata (who I am too nervous to contact but might someday).<br/>
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</p><p>And, if you're up for it, you should check out the original work! Again, V-E-R-Y NSFW, but so great if you're into it!</p><p><br/>
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<a name="section0025"><h2>25. Twenty Five*</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Melissa and Brooklyn get a *practical* lesson in human-gargoyle joining.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Remember, * means /sexy stuff/! No major plot points if you'd prefer to skip!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The quasi-kiss, which had started out slow and gentle, had grown to something rough and desperate. He had pulled me on top of him, drawing me over his chest as he leaned back to rest his head on the arm of the couch. I gripped his shoulders so I could bear down on his tongue, my moans becoming more unpredictable when he pressed his thigh between my legs and up. My blood rushed low to meet the deft pressure of his thigh, flooding, swelling, pulsing. I pressed my hips lower, craving more pressure, and he lifted his thigh to provide it.</p><p> </p><p>We parted, gasping like we were coming up for air after diving deep into the ocean. I looked down at him, my tongue and lips pulsing with my rapid, heavy heartbeat, fire in my cheeks. He looked up at me, starting to smile, when suddenly his eyes went wide. He sat up, pushing me back to an arm’s length and searching my face.</p><p> </p><p>“Brooklyn? What’s wrong?”</p><p> </p><p>“Are you okay?!”</p><p> </p><p>I looked at him, confused. “Yes? Why, what’s going on?”</p><p> </p><p>“I, I think you’re <em> bleeding </em>!” Panic started to creep into his voice.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> What?! </em>” I got up and ran to the ensuite in the bedroom, leaving Brooklyn and my discarded clothes in the main room. I looked in the mirror and saw a bright red smear covering my lower face.</p><p> </p><p>I gently touched the red smear as Brooklyn peeked through the bathroom door. “Are you...Was it…” The worry and panic on his face made him look frightened and miserable. “Was that...because of me?” His voice got quiet. “Did I hurt you again?”</p><p> </p><p>It didn’t make sense. I didn’t smell or taste blood, and I couldn’t see any cuts or punctures. I looked at him in the mirror and saw something. I turned and grabbed his face, looking closely at his beak. </p><p> </p><p>He tried to push me away, saying “No, we need to stop, I don’t want to keep hurting you because of my <em> stupid bea- </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s lipstick!”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s...lipstick?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes! Look!” I pulled him towards the mirror and tapped on the tip of his beak where we had first tried to kiss. “It’s just <em>barely</em> visible on you, but that’s my red lipstick print on your beak! <em> This </em>,” I motioned to my face, “is just smeared lipstick! I completely forgot I had it on!”</p><p> </p><p>He looked at me doubtfully, so I grabbed one of the overly fluffy towels and the hand soap, turning on the faucet. With a few swipes of soapy water, the bright red started to stain the towel instead of my face. While the towel was probably ruined, I couldn’t help but smile as I looked into the mirror. Brooklyn’s face had almost melted with relief.</p><p> </p><p>Once my face was clean, I held the towel up to him. “See? Everything’s <em> fine </em>! Although…”</p><p> </p><p>“‘Although…?’”</p><p> </p><p>“Let me see your tongue.”</p><p> </p><p>He raised one brow bone and smirked but stuck out his tongue. Most of his tongue was also bright red. He saw it in the mirror, surprised. I turned and opened my own mouth, <em> also </em> bright red.</p><p> </p><p>We looked at each other in the mirror, and broke out into laughter. I laughed so hard I snorted, making him laugh even harder.</p><p> </p><p>Eventually our laughter died away. We stared at each other, smiling, trying to hold back giggles.</p><p> </p><p>Brooklyn cleared his throat. “I’m, um, glad I didn’t hurt you, <em> wasn’t </em> hurting you.”</p><p> </p><p>We stood next to the sink, each waiting for the other to say something.</p><p> </p><p>“Should we-”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you-”</p><p> </p><p>We both stopped, waiting for the other to go on.</p><p> </p><p>Brooklyn cleared his throat again. “Do you want to pick back up where we, uh, stopped?”</p><p> </p><p>It was my turn to smirk. “<em>Hell</em> <em>yes</em>.” I took his hand and led him into the bedroom. “But how about instead of a couch we use something a bit more spacious?” I motioned towards the bed.</p><p> </p><p>He looked at the bed, then lifted his hands to feel his horns, considering.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh,” I realized that he was thinking whether or not his horns would pierce into the mattress if he laid down in the bed. “We <em> can </em> go back to the couch, if that would be better?”</p><p> </p><p>Instead of answering, he sat on the edge of the bed, then flopped backwards, arms spread like he was making a snow angel.</p><p> </p><p>His horns cleared the other side of the California King-sized bed. I hadn’t realized how tall he was when he wasn’t crouching, but lying across the bed he was able to keep his horns clear of the mattress and his feet on the ground.</p><p> </p><p>He slid his hands under his head and looked at me with a smile. “Sure you want to go back to the couch?”</p><p> </p><p>I climbed onto the bed, laying down beside him with my hands under my head. “Nah, here’s good.”</p><p> </p><p>He turned, a gleam in his eyes. “<em> Good </em>.” </p><p> </p><p>He rolled onto his side, sliding one arm around my waist and the other under my head as he leaned down towards me. I tilted my head, mouth open, arms pulling him towards me. My fingers dug into his hair as he slid his tongue between my lips and his thigh between my legs. His hand trailed from my waist to the back of my knee to pull my leg further over his. He pressed his thigh up against me again, quickly making me swell and flood. I tilted my hips and pressed into his thigh harder, starting to pulse them.</p><p> </p><p>Then he began purring, deeply and loudly, the rumbling traveling through his core into mine. I could feel the rumble from my sternum to my hips, increasing the tingling sensations I felt all over me. I pushed my body into his, trying to mold myself to every curve and angle. I wanted to touch as much of him as I could, and I wanted him to touch every part of me. I wanted to feel every rumble, every breath, every start and shudder.</p><p> </p><p>He flipped, positioning himself above me, his hands and knees pressing into the mattress. I looked up at him, running my hands up his arms to his hair again, gently trying to tug him back towards me, but he didn’t yield.</p><p> </p><p>“I think we should take <em> these </em> off first.” I felt something skim the waistline of my jeans, but he hadn’t moved his hands.</p><p> </p><p>“Is that your -?” I looked down, realizing it was the tip of his tail. “I forgot you had a tail.”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe I should have waited to surprise you with it later,” his smile was almost devilish as he wrapped his tail around my thigh, sliding it up and squeezing.</p><p> </p><p>“That might be a good idea…” I raised my eyebrows. “after we get rid of our clothes.” I slid my hands down from his hair, trailing his arms, then sliding them down his chest and stomach, the rumble of his purr deepening as I got lower. Before my fingers reached his under-layer, my hands drifted down to my stomach to reach the button of my jeans. I kept my eyes on him as I undid the button, then the zipper, pushing my jeans - and my underwear - down and wriggling out of them.</p><p> </p><p>Until I got to my thighs.</p><p> </p><p>In order to get the jeans <em> off </em>, I needed him to move his leg, otherwise I’d have to do some very strange stretches that would probably end with accidentally kneeing him in the groin or stomach.</p><p> </p><p>My frustration must have shown on my face, because he looked down beneath then back to me. “Do you need some help?”</p><p> </p><p>I blushed bright pink with embarrassment. “...yes…”</p><p> </p><p>He smirked <em> yet again </em>, then slowly reached down to hook his thumbs under the jeans and underwear. He stepped back, feet landing on the ground, pulling my clothes with him. I tried to subtly shift my legs to help him remove my jeans, but ended up getting stuck around mid-calf. I sat up and helped push my jeans and underwear all the way off, and once I was free he tossed them to the side.</p><p> </p><p>He stood beside the bed. The under-layer of his kilt had become even looser after all of our movement. I reached forward then stopped, looking up at him. “Are you ready?”</p><p> </p><p>He nodded. I gently pulled the under-layer down so it fell at his feet.</p><p> </p><p>I stared.</p><p> </p><p>And stared.</p><p> </p><p>I stared for so long, he shifted and cleared his throat, growing more uncomfortable the longer I stared.</p><p> </p><p>I kept staring.</p><p> </p><p>I didn’t understand.</p><p> </p><p>“Where is it?”</p><p> </p><p>Brooklyn’s cheeks colored a deeper red. “Where’s...what?”</p><p> </p><p>“Where’s your...stuff?”</p><p> </p><p>“What do you mean?!” He was embarrassed, and so was I. I was prepared to communicate with him, ask what he liked, tell him what I liked, but I was <em> not </em> prepared for there to be <em> nothing </em> there.</p><p> </p><p>I kept hesitating, feeling stupid for having to ask. “Where’s your genitalia?”</p><p> </p><p>He looked confused. “It’s here.” He pointed to where I had expected his phallus to be, but I only saw smooth skin.</p><p> </p><p>“But, there...there’s nothing there.”</p><p> </p><p>He looked down, then back to me. “Well, there <em>is</em>, just not <em>right</em> <em>now</em>. I take a little...more...before I’m ready.”</p><p> </p><p>I put my hands over my face. “Maybe you <em> should </em> tell me about ‘the birds and the bees.’ The <em> gargoyle </em> version.” I froze with my hands over my face, realizing half a beat too late that I could be ruining everything by asking for a biology lesson before we could keep going.</p><p> </p><p>I felt Brooklyn sit on the bed next to me. I lowered my hands and looked at him. “I’m sorry, you shouldn’t have to explain anything, I, I just don’t know what to <em> do </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>He looked up at the ceiling and sighed. “It’s okay. We knew we were going to run into some problems. I didn’t realize <em> this </em> was going to be one of them. Let’s see…” He turned to me. “When two gargoyles love each other very much, they - “</p><p> </p><p>I slapped his shoulder lightly with my hand. “I’m not a <em> kid </em> , I’m just not informed about <em> gargoyle anatomy </em>, you jerk.” </p><p> </p><p>He chuckled. “Okay, okay. The adult version: when I get turned on, my ‘stuff,’ as you called it, comes out from this slit here.” He pointed at his groin again. I must have still looked confused. “You can’t tell where it is?” I nodded. He used a finger to pull one side of his groin slightly, revealing the faint line of a very effectively concealed orifice. He looked uncomfortable, releasing quickly. “It doesn’t feel great to mess with the slit, my ‘stuff’ has to come out on its own.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh.” He looked at me. “The humans I’ve been with have all had their genitalia already ‘out.’ Their gentialia’s always out.” It was his turn to look down at <em> my </em> groin in confusion. “Mine are always ‘in.’ Kind of like...a plug and an electrical outlet.”</p><p> </p><p>“Humans have <em> two </em>?!”</p><p> </p><p>“What?! <em> No </em> ! Just one!” I blushed. “I mean, there <em> could </em> be, biology kind of does what it wants, but <em> in general </em> it’s just one.”</p><p> </p><p>He sighed, relieved, then had a thought. “<em>That’s </em> why those crotch kicks are so effective on <em> The Pack </em> ! If their genitals are just <em> exposed, </em>and if they’re not wearing armor...yikes...” He hissed, imagining what that might feel like. “Glad we don’t have to deal with that.”</p><p> </p><p>I cleared my throat. “So, it comes out when you’re turned on?” He nodded. “Was it, um, ‘out’ when we were on the couch?”</p><p> </p><p>“It was starting to emerge, but then I saw the lipstick on your face and I got scared that I had hurt you…”</p><p> </p><p>I placed my hand on his thigh. “We’ve got time to keep going though, right? You said it takes ‘a little more before you’re ready?’” He nodded. “So...what do you have in mind for ‘a little more?’”</p><p> </p><p>He placed his hand over mine. “Are you <em> sure </em> you want to keep going?”</p><p> </p><p>“I am. Are <em> you </em>?”</p><p> </p><p>He sighed. “Yes, I think so. I just...I don’t want this to be <em> this </em> difficult.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s more ‘confusing’ than ‘difficult.’ But,’” I leaned my head against his, “it’s just going to take more communication that either of us would probably like.” I turned my head to whisper in his ear. “But that also means it’ll take a lot more ‘practice.’”</p><p> </p><p>He smiled, looking at me from the corner of his eye. “I’m up for it if you are.”</p><p> </p><p>I kissed his cheek. “I’m definitely up for it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay. Start from where we just were?”</p><p> </p><p>I tugged his hand as I laid back down on the bed, pulling him with me. He settled on his side next to me and leaned in for another quasi-kiss. I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him close to me, mouth open wide. I felt his tongue gently dance with mine, returning to a softer, slower pace.</p><p> </p><p>I pulled back and moved to his ear, pulling it with my teeth and lips, skimming the edge of it with my tongue. He purred, tightening his grip and sliding a hand down to knead the spot on my lower back again. I hooked his leg with mine and pulled it towards me, guiding it between my legs, then pulsed my hips slowly along his thigh, close to his hip. His purr deepend, starting to move through our cores again. He took my head in his hands and drove his tongue deep into my mouth. I dug my fingers into his thick white hair.</p><p> </p><p>He turned over, lying fully on top of me and parting my legs with his. His thighs pushed up under mine, and I wrapped my legs around him. He pressed down onto me, the weight of him on me making my heart pound that much more, blood rushing to course along where our bodies met. His rumbling purr sunk deep into me, vibrating down through my bones. I tilted my hips up, kneading us together, and he exhaled, a soft growl in his moans. He pulled back his tongue and gazed at me. I slid my hands to his face, trying to pull him back down for a kiss.</p><p> </p><p>Instead, I felt something smooth and muscular press at me between my legs. I exhaled in surprise, my hips rolling against the pressure, feeling it press harder in response. He smiled.</p><p> </p><p>“Brooklyn,” I panted. “That feels...that...ahh-” I trailed off into an exhale as he pressed even harder, then started to slide along my vulva. I sighed, rolling my hips to match the sliding movement, my hands moving to grasp his shoulders.</p><p> </p><p>“I hoped you would like that, glad I was right,” he murmured before pushing his tongue back into my waiting mouth.</p><p> </p><p>It was his tail pressing against me, becoming narrower, then wider, as the sliding movement continued.</p><p> </p><p>He stopped, removing his tongue and leaning down to whisper in my ear, “Is this okay?” I felt a pressure on the peak of my vulva, at my clitoris, the end of his tail pressing and waiting for my response.</p><p> </p><p>I breathed heavily, thighs tightening around him. I nodded, but he waited. I nodded again, and he pressed just a bit more at my clit, waiting. “<em> Yes </em>,” I responded with a breathy whisper.</p><p> </p><p>I felt the tip of his tail slide down from my peak to trace my labia, up and down, side to side. I had no idea that his tail was this dextrous, assuming it was just for balance but thoroughly enjoying that it could be used for so much more.</p><p> </p><p>“Does that feel good?” He gazed into my eyes, entranced.</p><p> </p><p>“Ohhhh yes, hahh, <em> yes </em>,” I panted heavily between words, tilting my hips to push against his tail as he returned to sliding it over my vulva.</p><p> </p><p>He leaned down to drag his tongue along the side of my neck, making me tremble. I felt something press onto my lower stomach. Something that hadn’t been there before.</p><p> </p><p>I slid my hands from his shoulders down his back, skimming his folded wings, to press down on his lower back while I arched mine, pressing my lower stomach up, compressing the new pressure between us. </p><p> </p><p>“Hhaahh, guess I, mmmn, I’m ready,” he exhaled heavily. It was my turn to gaze at him, drinking in his expression, a mixture of pleasure and need.</p><p> </p><p>I started to slide my hand from his lower back, over his hip, towards his newly emerged erection, dragging my fingers over his skin, taking my time. “Is this okay?” I whispered into his ear, tracing the edge with my tongue.</p><p> </p><p>He reached down and grabbed my wrist, panting. “N-no.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay.” I started moving my hand away, but he gently held onto my wrist, instead bringing my hand up to rest on the bed beside us, his four fingers intertwined with my five. </p><p> </p><p>His other hand still rested on my cheek, and he gently stroked his thumb across the corner of my mouth. “Things would have finished, <em> fast </em> . Maybe there’ll be time for...that...later.” Color rose in his cheeks, but I just nodded. He had respected me when I told him ‘no,’ and he had <em> listened </em> to me when I had explained why. He seemed relieved, leaning down to quasi-kiss me slowly and deeply.</p><p> </p><p>He renewed his tail’s caresses on my labia, and I dug my free hand into his hair again, pulling gently. I arched my back again, pressing my lower stomach up and tilting my hips to press against his erection and his tail at the same time. We both moaned and sighed, indiscriminately and without care. He pulled his tongue out again, quickly, making a soft, wet pop.</p><p> </p><p>“Ahh-are you ready,” he panted.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Yes </em> , oh god <em> yes </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>He reached down, and I quickly disentangled my hand from his fingers to reach down too. Our hands met, one on either side of his erection. His free hand was braced on the mattress, while mine slid from his hair to his shoulder. Our eyes were locked as our hands guided him into me.</p><p> </p><p>He gasped and moaned, his eyes shutting. I exhaled heavily, eyes becoming unfocused, feeling him slide into me slowly. I lowered my feet and dug my heels onto the mattress, leveraging my hips up so he could keep going deeper. He grasped the comforter on either side of my head, talons digging through the bedclothes into the mattress. He arched his back and dug his taloned toes into the mattress as well, pushing into me until the base of his erection was flush with my vulva. </p><p> </p><p>“Haaaahh…” He exhaled and looked down at me, contented, desperate. I felt his tail curl around one of my thighs, caressing it idly.</p><p> </p><p>My hands grasped the bedclothes near my hips, anchoring me so I could press myself up even more. I looked up at him, my eyes still unfocused, panting, moans turning into whines as they left my lips. “Mmmnn, aaaah...Brooklyn…” I closed my eyes and arched up even higher, my clit pinned flat against his groin.</p><p> </p><p>The talons at his fingers and toes dug deeper into the mattress as he moaned my name. “Melissa...haahhh…”</p><p> </p><p>He drew back slightly, before sinking deeper into me, his hips rolling smoothly with his thrusts.</p><p> </p><p>“Aahhh, yes, <em> yes </em>, mmmmnn...” I moved my hips in time with him, making each thrust push against my clit. </p><p> </p><p>He slowed suddenly, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me up so he was on his knees. I tucked my legs so I straddled him, my knees on the bed as well. I wound my arms around his waist in return, pulling us together as I sank onto his erection from my new position. His arms, still on my waist, pushed me down as he thrust up, making me gasp as his pulses hit my clit faster and harder.</p><p> </p><p>“Hnnnaaahh, Brooklyn, <em> Brooklyn </em> ,aaahh, oh <em> god </em>,” I moaned between gasps. I slid my hands down to his seat, pulling us into one another even more, rolling my hips rapidly.</p><p> </p><p>“Haah, hnnn, Melissa, mmmm….” I felt his beak press down over my shoulder as he held me even tighter. He spread his wings and folded them around us, pulling me in and enveloping both of us. I felt his wings drape over my thighs, my back, my shoulders, warming my already feverish skin.</p><p> </p><p>I started to feel it, rippling through me like waves on a still lake after it’s been disturbed by errantly thrown rocks. Gentle and calm, yet insistent and urgent. I tilted my head back and bore down on Brooklyn as I climaxed, my muscles trembling, gasping at the enrapturing feeling drifting through me.</p><p> </p><p>His thrusts became unsteady as he neared his own climax, his breathing ragged, his purr inconsistent. I felt his lower jaw tense, gritting his teeth behind his beak, and his talons pricking into my skin as he tightened his grip.</p><p> </p><p>In one motion, he threw his head back, thrust his hips up, and unfurled his wings to their full extension, his exhale carrying the loud and deep rumble of his purr as he climaxed.</p><p> </p><p>He lowered his head, wings drooping, eyes half-closed and breathing heavy, his grip lightening as his own euphoria coursed through him.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Wow </em>,” I exhaled, muscles still trembling, my tongue and lips pulsing with my heartbeat. I leaned my forehead against his, trying to slow my breath.</p><p> </p><p>“Was that okay?” He was spent, trembling like I was, running his hands slowly up and down my back.</p><p> </p><p>“If I didn’t know better, I’d say that you’ve joined with a human before.”</p><p> </p><p>He smiled. “You’re the first. I’m glad you enjoyed it, I know <em> I </em> sure as hell did.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, I <em> definitely </em> did.”</p><p> </p><p>“Any chance we could rest for a bit?” He looked exhausted but content. I leaned forward and planted a kiss on his beak, running my hands over his hair.</p><p> </p><p>“Fantastic idea, let me just clean up.” I rose up, but looked down quickly when I realized that I didn’t have to ‘dismount’ him. I saw the last bit of his deep burgundy phallus slowly retract into his slit. I also realized that I didn’t actually <em> need </em> to clean up. “...Or, maybe not? You...you <em> finished </em>, right?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, why?”</p><p> </p><p>I shifted off of him and sat back on my heels. “You didn’t leave any fluid behind. Is that just another biological difference between humans and gargoyles?”</p><p> </p><p>He chuckled and shook his head, shifting so he sat on the bed with his legs out in front of him, elbows on his knees. “Probably. When we join for mating, there’s ‘fluid,’ but not when we join for pleasure.”</p><p> </p><p>I shifted my hips to the side, lounging on the bed. “That is <em> very </em> convenient. So how much time do we have to relax?”</p><p> </p><p>He turned to look at the windows of the bedroom, dark curtains still drawn aside while the sheer panels did a poor job of hiding us from the outside world. I was very glad that the apartment was high up, away from prying eyes. “Hmmm, half an hour, I think. Then I’d have to get back to the clocktower, check in with the guys and see what they’ve found out before the sun comes up.”</p><p> </p><p>I patted the space next to where I was stretched out. He laid back, making sure his horns didn’t get caught in the mattress, and I nestled into his side, his arm around me. I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I felt was his arm sliding out from under my head, shifting his weight towards the edge of the bed. I looked at the windows, eyes bleary, and saw that the sky was lighter.</p><p> </p><p>He had picked up and replaced his under-layer, then glanced through the bedroom door. “My belt and the other half of my kilt are in there, right?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” I rolled off the bed and picked up my quilt, wrapping it around me. “I’ll help you find them.”</p><p> </p><p>“And pick up your clothes before Matt comes in?” He had rested enough to put a smirk and cocked brow bone back on his face. I rolled my eyes but smiled back.</p><p> </p><p>We found the rest of our clothes and I went with him to the French Doors, standing behind the threshold to the balcony. He took my hands in his and wrapped his wings around me, leaning his forehead against mine.</p><p> </p><p>“Stay safe, Melissa. <em> Please </em> stay safe.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not going anywhere, Brooklyn. I <em> promise </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>We stood like that for a few seconds, then he suddenly leaned forward to quickly slide his tongue up the side of my neck. I yelped in surprise, and with one last smirk Brooklyn hopped onto the balcony’s railing then jumped, catching the wind to glide off into the dark morning sky.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. Twenty Six</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The plan comes together, and unfortunately it includes Xanatos and magic. Brooklyn arrives at the clock tower.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Special shoutout to TheRedStreak33 for inspiring the end scene!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The power came back on a few minutes after the coordinates for the party had appeared on the screen. Lexington had written the coordinates down on the scrap piece of paper he used to solve the ‘math problem.’</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, now we know where they will be.” Goliath was grim, determined.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you think they’re there </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Broadway asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If they are, we should go there and get Elisa!” Lexington balled his hands into fists and gripped them tightly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hold on,” Xanatos interrupted calmly. “Let’s see exactly </span>
  <em>
    <span>where</span>
  </em>
  <span> this party’s going to be.” He shooed Lexington out of the office chair, but not before Lexington ejected the disk. He held it close to him, still suspicious of Xanatos, who ignored him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve got remote access to some low-orbiting satellites, we can use them to look at the location.” He entered the coordinates and studied the monitor. “It’ll take a few minutes for the closest satellite to pass over the area. Let’s see if we can find out the general area from an atlas while we wait.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Owen returned from putting away the coffee service with a large, thin book in his hand. “I thought you might need this, sir.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s like you can read my mind, Owen.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lexington took the atlas from Owen and began flipping. “Looks like it’s still in the state, at least. Near Albany?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Goliath looked over Lexington’s shoulder. “It appears to be a large forest.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The closest landmark...is Black Dome Mountain?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So it’s in the Catskills,” Xanatos said, thinking. “Seems to check out, there are plenty of unexplored forests there. It wouldn’t be hard to have a large gathering </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> keep it private.” He looked at the monitor. “Ah, here we are.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Everyone looked up to see miles and miles of dense forest, still mostly green with a few spots of orange and yellow, a few weeks away from the true beginning of fall foliage gazing season. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Goliath frowned. “We cannot see through the leaves.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Xanatos nodded. “So it’s still an unknown location, most likely uninhabited. I could send a few of the Steel Clan to scout the area more closely.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You mean those Goliath-wannabe </span>
  <em>
    <span>robots</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Broadway huffed. “No way.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There is no time. Reconnaissance is not a luxury we have, we must focus on a plan of attack. We only have two days, one night to plan and prepare.” Goliath was confident, more comfortable now that they finally had something more concrete.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, how do you plan to get to the party?” Xanatos turned in the office chair, steepling his fingers once again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Goliath hesitated, knowing that the question was a trick. He chose to remain silent.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It seems to me,” Xanatos continued, “that you need a human who can get into the party, who looks like they </span>
  <em>
    <span>belong</span>
  </em>
  <span> there.” He glanced at Detective Bluestone, raising an eyebrow. “And get all of you </span>
  <em>
    <span>to</span>
  </em>
  <span> the party. You’ll have to be transported, during the day.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“When we’re in our stone sleep.” Goliath frowned.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m afraid so. You need someone who can get you to the party safe and intact, and undetected. No police vans are going to achieve that, but I’ve got a few vehicles that could work. Admit it, Goliath.” Xanatos smiled. “You need me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How about you tell us what </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> plan is, </span>
  <em>
    <span>then</span>
  </em>
  <span> we’ll decide if we ‘need’ you,” Matt said, unconvinced.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s simple. I’ll transport all of you to the location, perhaps taking along some of the Steel Clan, and while I pose as one of the party goers and get a sense of where Elisa might be, you will sneak around in the forest an opportunity to attack presents itself.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t like it,” Broadway said cautiously, “we can’t rely on </span>
  <em>
    <span>just</span>
  </em>
  <span> Xanatos. But they probably won’t let Matt in because he’s NYPD. He’s got ‘detective’ written all over him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I could use a disguise,” Detective Bluestone offered. “But we don’t know what security is like. It’s possible they could see through it, and that might throw the whole rescue operation into jeopardy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The group went thoughtfully quiet, except for Xanatos, whose smile only grew more and more smug.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Melissa!” The group stopped to look at Lexington. “We should send </span>
  <em>
    <span>Melissa</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Lex, we can’t just send Melissa!” Broadway shook his head. “There was that break-in at her apartment and we don’t know </span>
  <em>
    <span>who</span>
  </em>
  <span> it was! The perp could be at the party, for all we know!.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We won’t send her </span>
  <em>
    <span>alone</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Lexington pointed at Xanatos. “We’ll send her with </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Goliath frowned, but Lexington continued. “Look, he’s right that we need someone who looks like they </span>
  <em>
    <span>belong</span>
  </em>
  <span> there, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>we</span>
  </em>
  <span> know we can’t trust him by himself, especially while we’re asleep. If we bring Melissa, she can keep an eye on him!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No.” Goliath said firmly. “Broadway is right, we can’t expose her to danger, and sending her with Xanatos would barely be safer than sending her by herself. There must be another way.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Owen cleared his throat. “I believe I may have a solution.” He had their attention. “The Grimorum Arcanorum -”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“-Is </span>
  <em>
    <span>gone</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Goliath’s voice grew angry. “I am still not convinced that </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> do not have it, Xanatos.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I would tell you to ‘trust me’ when I say I don’t have it, but I know that would be asking a lot from you.” Xanatos turned back to his servant. “Go on, Owen.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The Grimorum Arcanorum </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> missing, it’s true. But I was able to copy a few pages before it was taken. Most of them are useless, but I believe that one of the spells I copied would offer a solution.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We will </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> use magic to rescue Elisa. Magic is dangerous, good rarely comes from it.” Goliath was wary, angry that it would even be suggested. Magic had been used on the gargoyles before, too many times for Goliath’s taste, and it had always ended badly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Goliath,” Detective Bluestone cut in, “Maybe we should just hear what the spell does before we decide not to use it.” He nodded to Owen. “So what does this spell </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Owen remained unphased, as if he had expected the gargoyles to resist the suggestion. “The spell would enchant a small object that, when worn, would temporarily turn the gargoyles into humans. They could take the object off to return to their gargoyle forms. I believe that there are a limited number of uses per object, but it should work for our purposes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can you do the enchantment to multiple objects?” Detective Bluestone asked, considering.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes. It would take the rest of the night, but I believe I could make one for each gargoyle, provided we have objects to enchant.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s not like we haven’t been human before,” Lexington added thoughtfully. “Remember, that one time that Demona trapped Puck and made him turn humans into gargoyles and us into humans?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes. It was chaos. We were lucky that everyone was able to be returned to normal. And we were at a severe physical disadvantage compared to our gargoyle forms.” Goliath crossed his arms, seeming to remain unconvinced.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But imagine if we could turn </span>
  <em>
    <span>back</span>
  </em>
  <span> into gargoyles whenever we wanted! I bet it would look really </span>
  <em>
    <span>cool</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” Broadway was beginning to sound excited. “It’d probably blow those scenes from </span>
  <em>
    <span>Teen Wolf</span>
  </em>
  <span> out of the water!” The movie had been on repeat for a few nights in a row, and Broadway had gotten a close look at all the special effects used during Michael J. Fox’s transformation scenes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How would we </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> get into the party? We have only </span>
  <em>
    <span>one</span>
  </em>
  <span> invitation.” Goliath grew frustrated. This plan was already growing complicated, and out of his control.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We could use this,” Xanatos interrupted, taking an identical golden disk from his jacket’s inner pocket.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You already </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> one of these?!” Lexington looked between the golden disk he held in his hand and the one Xanatos had taken out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course. But I never took any interest in them until </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> brought one to me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So now we have two invitations, which is awfully convenient. But how many people does one invitation cover?” Detective Bluestone folded his arms, looking at Xanatos skeptically.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My understanding is that the invitation covers the addressee and up to three guests. They wouldn’t expect people like Tony Dracon, or myself, to show up without protection. Or, in some cases, a </span>
  <em>
    <span>date</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I’m not sure who Melissa is, but if the Four Horsemen wanted her but were unable to capture her, it might be advantageous to bring her. It could throw our hosts off-balance.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So we have an invitation for Dracon, and an invitation for you. We can’t get near Dracon right now, there’s no way he wouldn’t have gone into hiding after we questioned him.” Detective Bluestone continued to think it over. “If one of us posed as Dracon’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>representative</span>
  </em>
  <span>, we could possibly use both invitations.” He looked to Xanatos again, who shrugged.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s possible. We won’t know until we try.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, we all go disguised as humans, a few of us as Xanatos’ bodyguards, someone goes as Dracon’s ‘representative,’ and Melissa comes as someone’s date.” Broadway smiled. “I love it when a plan comes together!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Detective Bluestone snapped his fingers with a sudden thought. “I could wait with backup nearby. I’m sure </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he pointed to Xanatos, “have a set of undetectable earpieces and microphones we could use.” Xanatos smirked and nodded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“All we have to do now is figure out what to enchant, and how we’ll divide up!” Lexington started to sound as excited as Broadway.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And our aliases! And disguises!” Broadway’s eyes were shining, already thinking about the backstories and costumes they would need.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>And</span>
  </em>
  <span> plan our attack,” Goliath sternly reminded him. “We need a plan for finding and </span>
  <em>
    <span>rescuing</span>
  </em>
  <span> Elisa.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Give me a day, and I’ll find out more about this party.” Xanatos said. “I can ask around and see who’s been before without raising suspicion. We shouldn’t plan how to attack without knowing what we’re facing. Owen,” he nodded at him. “What items would be best to enchant?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They should be objects that are easy to remove, but subtle. Perhaps jewelry? I could contact some jewelers and see what they have available.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Excellent idea, get it done. Will you need anything else for the enchantment?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Owen shook his head. “Just the objects, and no disturbances. If the spell gets interrupted, I’ll have to begin it again, with new objects.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Very well.” He looked to Goliath. “Any requests for the jewelry?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Goliath grumbled. “I would prefer a ring, if possible. It would be the easiest to remove quickly.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Broadway?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll take a ring!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Lex?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lexington looked at his fingers. “Me too!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Rings all around, then? Brooklyn and Hudson too?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Goliath nodded, then added, “And a collar for Bronx.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Done. Owen, do what you need to do.” Owen nodded with a slight bow and left. “So, I’ll ask around for more information. Owen will enchant the items. Detective Bluestone, I assume you’ll be working with your people to set up the operation. And the rest of you will be asleep.” Xanatos glanced at Goliath with a smirk.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Detective Bluestone nodded. “It seems like you’ve got everything covered.” He turned to Goliath. “We should decide how to split all of you up </span>
  <em>
    <span>after</span>
  </em>
  <span> we see what you look like as humans.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good idea,” Xanatos jumped in. “I should pick my bodyguards, for added realism.” Goliath narrowed his eyes but turned to Detective Bluestone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We must return to the clock tower. I will tell Hudson and Brooklyn about the plan. You should tell Melissa, give her time to prepare. Maybe get her a weapon. She can’t defend herself like Elisa can.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Without another word, Goliath turned and walked out of the room, Broadway and Lexington following. Goliath was silent as they glided back to the clock tower, while Broadway and Lexington talked over various aspects of the plan.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An hour later, Brooklyn arrived back at the clock tower just a few minutes before dawn. The other gargoyles were already preparing to pose on the stone railing before the sun rose.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Brooklyn, you cut it close again.” Goliath sounded annoyed. “We have a plan, but you will have to wait until tonight to hear it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, sorry, Goliath, I got...caught up at the apartment.” He turned, trying to hide his smirk from the clan leader.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I bet </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> know what kept you,” Lexington teased. “Starts with an ‘M?’”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Lex, you have </span>
  <em>
    <span>no idea</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Brooklyn’s smirk grew into a smug smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>Melissa</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Broadway asked in a sing-song voice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you know, pretty tired. I’m wiped out, too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why’s that?” Lexington asked suspiciously. The sky grew lighter and lighter.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did you guys play a lot of checkers or something?” Broadway chuckled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, nothing like that.” He paused, his smile almost ear-to-ear. It was a few seconds to sunrise. “We </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> join, though.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>WHA-”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The bright orange rays of the sunrise over New York City shone onto the gargoyle’s frozen faces, Brooklyn’s in a salacious grin with a raised brow bone, and Broadway and Lexington wearing matching expressions of surprise and disbelief, mouths frozen open.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If someone had come to the balcony after the gargoyles turned to stone, they would have seen that Goliath’s face, turned towards the Trio, was frozen in surprise as well. Surprise, and anger.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. Twenty Seven</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The rings and collar are enchanted, and Melissa meets Xanatos.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>In a stone laboratory in the castle, far away from the other bodyguards and from Mr. Xanatos, Owen Burnett stood in front of a stone table. On the stone table were five rings and one thick leather collar. He looked to the door, making sure it was still locked, then back to the stone table, straightening his glasses.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A smile, wide and mischievous, spread across his usually impassive face. Wind from an unknown source started to swirl around him, plucking at his jacket and tie, disheveling his hair. He was lifted off the ground by the growing wind, spinning faster and faster. His smile grew as vivid green lightning bolts broke through the whirlwind surrounding him. Each flash of lightning was brighter and larger.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Owen began laughing. His voice sounded odd, higher and brighter. The laughter echoing in the room was fiendish and cheery in equal measure. After one last blinding bolt of green lightning, the wind died away completely, as if the storm were a dream.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In Owen’s place was a slim, pale creature with long white hair and large pointed ears. He was smaller than Owen but floated off the ground at Owen’s height. His eyes were bright and calculating, his smile was sharp and cunning. He rubbed his hands together greedily.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Now, let’s have some </span>
  <em>
    <span>fun</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He floated through the air as easily as thought, and hovered over the objects, his hands spread wide. His eyes began to glow with the same green light as the lightning as he spoke:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Gargoyles now seek to disguise</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Their true nature from human eyes</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>When these charms are no longer worn</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Their true selves they become once more</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The green light burst from his eyes and struck the rings and collar, imbuing them with the creature’s magic.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The creature turned in midair and floated to a metal table pushed to the side of the room, where a small box covered in dark velvet rested. He reached down to open it, revealing a sixth ring, set with a single diamond. He picked the box up and held his other hand over it, his smile turning devious. His eyes began to glow with power again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>As for the one who wears this ring</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>All they’ll see is a gem that gleams</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Unless true danger they should face</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A gargoyle then will take their place</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The last bit of light sunk into the ring as the creature closed the small box. He tossed it into the air and caught it, giggling.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, Puck, you’ve done it again! This will be very, </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> interesting. I can’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>wait</span>
  </em>
  <span> to see what happens next!” He threw his head back and laughed, louder and louder, as the sourceless wind began to pick up again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>- - -</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It was safe</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Being wrapped in his arms</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Soft skin that radiated warmth</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Gentle, familiar</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>My heart pulsed with his heat</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>My lips pressed to his neck</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A rumble started in his chest</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We were floating</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Gliding</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>High above the city</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He held me tightly</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>So tightly</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Too</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Too tight</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I couldn’t breathe</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I was cold</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>So</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Cold</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This wasn’t his skin</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This wasn’t his embrace</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It wasn’t</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It wasn’t him</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I tried to pull away</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Pieces came away with me</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Rotted skin</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Boils that squished and squelched</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>My hands became slick with the pus that oozed from its wounds as I tried to push out of its grip</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A wet hissing sound came from its lipless mouth</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Over </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Over again</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I saw the yellow and red eyes</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It was laughing</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>As it let go</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I fell</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And fell</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A jolt went through my body as I woke with a scream, grabbing at the bedclothes around me. Sweat soaked my pillow and sheets, and my entire body trembled. Tears pricked the corners of my eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I looked around at the unfamiliar bedroom and took a deep breath.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It had just been a dream.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A dream that had ended as a nightmare.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I threw the covers off of me and took shaky steps to the ensuite, turning on the faucet to wash the sweat off my face. </span>
  <span>I looked up at my face in the mirror.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yellow and red eyes peeked around the door. I whipped around, but saw nothing. Hopefully it was just my imagination.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I took a long, hot shower. The toiletries in the shower were all expensive brands that smelled like lavender and jasmine, and I took my time, enjoying the calming scents and trying to wash the nightmare off of me.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I was eating breakfast in the kitchen when Matt arrived at the apartment. I had found cereal and milk, although it took me a little longer to find the coffee. I froze when I heard the concealed elevator doors ding, but Matt had called out as soon as the doors opened.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Melissa?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m in the kitchen! Want some coffee?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He walked into the kitchen looking exhausted and excited. He held up his notepad. “We got a </span>
  <em>
    <span>huge</span>
  </em>
  <span> break last night!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Really?! Do you know who took Elisa?!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, but we know where they’re going to be. At midnight tomorrow night, there’s going to be a huge gathering in the woods near Black Dome Mountain. It’ll be some kind of party for the highborn lowlifes, and it has something to do with the Four Horsemen and the kidnapped victims. Elisa’s going to be there. I can </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel</span>
  </em>
  <span> it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Black Dome Mountain?”</span>
  <span></span><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s on the way to Albany, in the Catskills.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, what’s the next step? Is the police going to do a raid?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, the next step is more complicated than just a raid.” He sat at the kitchen table and I slid him a mug for coffee. “And, it involves you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay. What do you need me to do?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Matt raised an eyebrow. “No other questions? No ‘why me’ or anything like that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They broke into my apartment, stole all my photos, and left me a threatening note. I had to move, I had to quit my job, and I don’t know how long I have to be in hiding.” I set my mug down and looked at him. “I don’t know why I’m involved, but I’ve been involved from the beginning. It’s a little late to question that part now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Matt smiled. “Fair point.” He took a sip of coffee and flipped through his notebook. “We’ve got today, tonight, and tomorrow to plan. Xanatos is gathering more information on the party itself.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait, Xanatos? </span>
  <em>
    <span>David</span>
  </em>
  <span> Xanatos? I thought he couldn’t be trusted.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who told you that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Brooklyn, night before last. He was telling me how they got to New York and from their history with him it sounded like Xanatos is kind of a villain.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s because he </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but right now he’s cooperating with us. I don’t know </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and I’m sure it’s not out of the goodness of his heart, but strange times make for strange bedfellows.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I blushed slightly at the last word, thinking of the night before, and quickly went to sip from my mug. Maybe he’d think my flush was from the heat of the coffee. I cleared my throat. “What do I need to do?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Matt glanced at his watch, “Xanatos’ man Owen should be done making some equipment we need, and I want you to come with me to pick them up.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You want me to run an errand with you? While I’m supposed to be in hiding?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s only half an errand. You’re going to get a crash-course in self-defense from Xanatos. I’ll deliver the equipment to the clock tower while you’re practicing, then meet you back here. We'll go to the clock tower and discuss the whole plan tonight.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>David Xanatos</span>
  </em>
  <span> is going to teach </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> self-defense?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s got a black belt in karate, as well as an arsenal of highly advanced weapons. He could probably find a stealth weapon for you to have on top of the self-defense lesson.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I nodded. “I guess I should find something I can move around in.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We arrived at the extensive complex downtown about twenty minutes later. Matt and I were escorted by David Xanatos’ servant, Owen, to a training room. He told Matt that ‘they’ were ready, pointing to a box on one of the chairs along the side of the large padded mat serving as the arena.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s in there?” I asked, removing my coat and laying it on another unoccupied chair.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll let you know later.” Matt peeked into the box then closed it, looking skeptical. “I’ve got to make sure they work first.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Detective Bluestone, good to see you again.” A man entered the room, dressed in a dark, tailored suit and shining, fitted dress shoes. His brown hair was in a low ponytail, clearly styled rather than simply pulled back. His goatee was neatly trimmed, and he strode confidently towards the mat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>David Xanatos.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He held out a hand to Matt, who shook it reluctantly. David Xanatos looked at me, offering his hand. “And you must be the mysterious Melissa?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Melissa Campbell. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Xanatos.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Please, call me David.” He had a perfect smile, warm and slightly mischievous, as if he had shared a secret with me.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I...think I’d prefer to call you ‘Mr. Xanatos,’ if that’s all right.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He shrugged his shoulders casually, smoothly. “Actually, Miss Campbell, it would be more appropriate to call me </span>
  <em>
    <span>sensei</span>
  </em>
  <span> during our training session today.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Sensei</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Like a karate teacher?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Precisely. Only, we’ll concentrate on judo rather than karate. I believe it’ll prove to be more useful to you as a method of self-defense.” He bowed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright. But, you’re not exactly dressed for judo. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sensei</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” I added it on quickly, thinking that being rude to a man who was about to teach me self-defense could be a bad way to start off the lesson.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No. But that’s because I won’t be sparring you. Owen will.” He gestured to the austere man. “Better get changed, Owen. We need to begin our lesson. You too, Miss Campbell.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I looked down at my exercise leggings and sweatshirt. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“For a proper lesson, you need a proper uniform. Don’t worry, I’m sure we can find a set of </span>
  <em>
    <span>gi</span>
  </em>
  <span> in your size.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If you’ll follow me, Miss Campbell.” Owen bowed and gestured to a door on the side of the room. I hesitated, looking at Matt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Go ahead, Melissa. Xanatos will get you a ride back to your apartment. I’ll meet you back there when I’m done testing these.” He held up the box briefly. “I’ll see you at 6 o’clock, </span>
  <em>
    <span>sharp</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” He looked at Xanatos when he said it, a clear warning that if I </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> in the apartment at that time, Matt would come after Xanatos.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I waved to Matt as I followed Owen into a hallway that split, each side leading to a locker room. In front of us was a set of built-in shelves housing several pairs of white karate uniforms - </span>
  <em>
    <span>gi</span>
  </em>
  <span> - sorted into sizes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We keep these for guests. I believe this pair should fit you.” Owen pulled down a set and handed them to me. They smelled freshly laundered. He gestured to the locker room behind me, then turned to go into the other locker room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When I came out of the locker room, Matt was gone. Owen, already dressed, waited on the mat while Xanatos, who was speaking on his cell phone quietly, glanced at me and said a few more words before ending his call and walking over to me. “There we go. You’re almost ready to begin your lesson.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Almost?” I raised my eyebrows at him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’ve tied your belt wrong. Let me show you how to tie it, then we’ll get started.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He stepped towards me, but I stepped back. “I’m a bit of a visual learner, Mr. Xan- I mean, </span>
  <em>
    <span>sensei</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Perhaps Owen could show me instead?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Very well. Owen?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I mirrored Owen’s movements as he re-tied his belt, glad that I would be sparring him rather than Xanatos. Xanatos hadn’t done or said anything that would make me distrust him, but I didn’t trust him either. I knew that it was because of what Brooklyn and Goliath had told me about him, but I trusted </span>
  <em>
    <span>them</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It was hard to stay neutral.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let’s get started, shall we?” Xanatos gestured to the mat.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. Twenty Eight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Matt wakes the gargoyles.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“She’ll be fine,” Matt told himself again. He was worried about her. She was strong, and smart, but she had been gone for a long time and she hadn’t been able to get any word to anyone. They were so close to finding Elisa. He hoped she could hold on.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He arrived at the clock tower with the box tucked under his arm, and walked out to the balcony. The autumn sun was bright, warming the crisp air. He looked at the clock face behind him. It was 2 o’clock, the perfect time to test the enchantment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Who should go first?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He opened the box and looked inside. He pulled out the dog collar, black leather with sleek silver studs. Bronx would be the easiest one to test it on.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He walked over to the statue-version of Bronx. The gargoyle-hound was frozen mid-snarl, paw raised to claw at an enemy in front of him. He placed the dog collar around Bronx’s neck, and latched the buckle.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The statue started to shake and crack, a howling coming from within it. The howl was ferocious, but it was full of pain. Matt could almost hear Bronx’s bones snapping and reshaping as he woke from the stone sleep. With a final howl that turned into a whimper, the stone fell away to reveal Bronx’s daylight form: an enormous Scottish Deerhound. Bronx’s blue skin had turned to shaggy, silver-gray fur. His snout, legs, and tail grew longer and shaggier while his body became lean. Although he now looked slimmer and more graceful, it was clear that he was no less powerful than his gargoyle form.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Deerhound looked around and tucked its tail, whining, blinking against the sunlight, then spotted Matt. He immediately began growling, baring sharp, bright-white teeth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Matt slowly crouched down, staring at the Deerhound’s feet instead of his eyes. “Bronx, it’s me. It’s Matt. Elisa’s partner.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bronx continued to growl and began slowly approaching Matt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know you’re confused, buddy, but don’t worry. You’re still a gargoyle, you’re just </span>
  <em>
    <span>disguised</span>
  </em>
  <span> as a dog.” He looked up into Bronx’s eyes, now a dark brown instead of their usual white. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bronx approached Matt, sniffing at his clothing, still growling slightly. “I didn’t realize it was going to hurt so much. Sorry, Bronx.” Bronx sniffed at Matt’s face, then licked him with a long, pink tongue. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Matt scratched Bronx the Deerhound behind his floppy, shaggy ears. “Looks like we need to choose who to wake up next very, very carefully.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He walked over to each of the statues, looking at their expressions. Hudson had his normal fierce snarl, but the other four gargoyles looked odd. Broadway and Lexington were turned towards Brooklyn, and instead of looking fearsome they looked shocked and confused. They were facing Brooklyn, who was grinning with a sly look on his face. Goliath was positioned oddly, glancing at the other statues with a mixture of surprise and fury.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Matt called to Bronx, who was lounging in the sunlight for the first time in his life. “I don’t know that this is a conversation I want to start in the middle of, buddy. Any hints on what it’s about?” Bronx whined but didn’t offer any advice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He decided to start with Hudson. He dug through the box prepared by Owen, looking through the smaller boxes inside until he found one labeled “HDSN.” Inside was a thick, heavy ring made of gold-colored metal. It was engraved with Scottish thistles winding around the band. Matt looked at Hudson’s statue and realized he could possibly hook the ring over his stone thumb. He’d have to get close to the gargoyle to put the ring on him. He hoped Hudson would be quicker to recognize him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just like Bronx, Hudson’s statue cracked and shook, his growl turning into a wail of pain. Matt backed up as much as he could and watched the stone chip off of the gargoyle version of Hudson to reveal the human version underneath: a wide nose, long white hair and beard, a scar over his now white left eye. Hudson swayed on the stone pillar, and Matt rushed forward to grab his arm and steady him before he fell off the balcony to the sidewalk far below.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hudson groaned and blinked. “Wh-what </span>
  <em>
    <span>happened</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Is...is this...sunlight?” He looked down at his talonless hand, turning it over, feeling the warmth of the light on his skin. He turned to see who was grabbing his arm. “Detective Bluestone?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hudson, how do you feel?” He helped the now-human Hudson off of the stone pillar. Matt held on to Hudson’s shoulder, realizing that he was thrown off by his new lack of wings and tail.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I feel...warm.” He looked into the bright sky. “And like I’ve just climbed out of a fall into a quarry. How did this happen, lad? How am I awake to feel the sunlight on my skin? And </span>
  <em>
    <span>what is that</span>
  </em>
  <span>?!” Hudson pointed over to the Deerhound, who was happily trotting over.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s what Bronx looks like, thanks to his new collar. You got a ring.” He pointed to Hudson’s thumb.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This is just like that night that Puck turned us all human. But more painful. I must have missed Bronx’s transformation that night.” He scratched Bronx behind the ear, then reached down to run his thumb over the collar.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hudson, we need to wake up the others, but…” He gestured to the four still-frozen gargoyles. “I’m not sure what’s happening here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hudson looked to the other gargoyles and frowned. “I heard Brook say something just before the sun came up, but I couldn't make out what it was. The others must have turned to stone before they could respond.” He glanced between the statues, scratching his beard as he thought. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He went to stand next to Goliath. “Goliath looks angry, but who’s he angry </span>
  <em>
    <span>with,</span>
  </em>
  <span> I wonder.” He leaned down, trying to follow Goliath’s line of sight, then sighed. “Brooklyn.” He stood back to look at the statues again. He glanced up briefly, smiling at the sunshine, then back to the stone gargoyles. “We should wake Broadway and Lexington first, see if we can get the story.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Two rings and two painful transformations later, Broadway and Lexington were standing on the stone balcony as humans. Broadway had his arms spread and his face turned up towards the sun, smiling. Matt had never seen so many people glad to see the sun, and it took him a moment to remember that due to their stone sleep, they’d never </span>
  <em>
    <span>seen</span>
  </em>
  <span> sunlight. Lexington was studying Bronx, lifting his ear and watching it flop back down while Bronx wagged his shaggy tail.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, lads.” Hudson walked over, putting a hand on Broadway’s shoulder. “What did Brook say that shocked ye’ so much?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m trying to remember, but that transformation took a lot out of me!” Broadway ran a hand through the puff of blonde hair on top of his head, his thick blonde eyebrows lowered in concentration. His ring, similar to Hudson’s but bright silver, was on his middle human finger.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lexington tapped a finger on his chin, his other arm crossed over his chest, hand rubbing at the spot on his ribs where his webbing would normally have been. His ring, a thinner, pewter-colored metal with whorls of thistles and leaves, rested on his pointer finger. “Yeah, that </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurt</span>
  </em>
  <span>! That was nothing like when Puck changed us!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, at least you look the same as you did the night we transformed.” Broadway called over to Lexington.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lexington ran a hand over his short brown hair, then over his ridgeless browbones. “You do, too. But what was it Brooklyn was saying before we froze?” They stood in the sunlight, thinking. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A shock went through both of them at the same time as they remembered. They turned to each other, mouths agape just as they had been in their statues, then slowly turned to stare at Brooklyn.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Brooklyn...before the sun came up, he said…” Broadway blushed, bright red blotches coloring his now pale skin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Brooklyn said he and Melissa </span>
  <em>
    <span>joined</span>
  </em>
  <span> last night!” Lexington blurted out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>WHAT?!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Hudson stared at the two of them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Broadway pointed at Hudson. “That’s what </span>
  <em>
    <span>we</span>
  </em>
  <span> said!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Matt looked slowly between the three newly transformed humans. “I’m guessing ‘joined’ means something specific?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes it does, lad.” Hudson slapped his hand on his forehead and shook his head. “Yes it does.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They stood in embarrassed silence until Matt interrupted with, “And </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span> does it mean?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Come </span>
  <em>
    <span>on</span>
  </em>
  <span>, are you </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> going to make us spell it out?!” Lexington threw his hands up, exasperated.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What? It’s not like they </span>
  <em>
    <span>slept together</span>
  </em>
  <span>, right?” Matt’s smirk slowly faded as the others stayed silent. “Oh. </span>
  <em>
    <span>OH.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This is gonna be </span>
  <em>
    <span>bad</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Broadway groaned. “This is gonna be </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> bad.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why?” They glared at Matt. “Don’t get me wrong, I can </span>
  <em>
    <span>see</span>
  </em>
  <span> that something is off by the look on your faces. But, they’re both adults, relatively speaking, and if they found a way to ‘make it work,’ then what’s the issue?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s never happened before, lad.” Hudson shook his head wearily. “Humans and gargoyles have always </span>
  <em>
    <span>worked</span>
  </em>
  <span> together, bonded through truces and duty, but joining has </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> been a part of that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can’t be serious.” Matt looked between the gargoyles. “Look, I don’t want to be crass, but there’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>no way</span>
  </em>
  <span> that a human and a gargoyle have </span>
  <em>
    <span>never..</span>
  </em>
  <span>.you know...”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe so, but it’s never happened in </span>
  <em>
    <span>our</span>
  </em>
  <span> clan. This is a change in how the </span>
  <em>
    <span>clan</span>
  </em>
  <span> is interacting with humans. A change I don’t think Goliath is ready for.” Hudson gestured back towards Goliath and Brooklyn. “When Goliath wakes, he’s going to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>angry</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Ye’ might want to consider waking Brook up first and getting him </span>
  <em>
    <span>out</span>
  </em>
  <span> of the clock tower before waking Goliath. Give him time to cool off </span>
  <em>
    <span>without</span>
  </em>
  <span> Brooklyn riling him up.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Matt sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Alright, I guess I could take him to the safehouse, too. Let’s wake Brooklyn up.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Matt pulled out the box with Brooklyn’s ring, a thick band of almost-black metal, the spiked leaves of the Scottish thistle deeply etched around the ring with one thistle in the center of the band. He placed it on the gargoyle’s end finger and stepped back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By the end of his transformation, Brooklyn was groaning, shielding his eyes from the sun. “What just happened?” He looked up at the sunlight. “Is that-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before he could finish his question, Hudson grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. “What were ye’ </span>
  <em>
    <span>thinking</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Brook?!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What are you talking about?” Brooklyn blinked at Hudson, confused, then shook his head. “Man, that </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurt</span>
  </em>
  <span>! How’d everyone become human?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Brooklyn.” Lexington came up to Hudson’s side. “Do you remember what you told us, just before we turned to stone?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brooklyn scratched his head, looking at his hand when he realized his talons were gone. “Give me a second.” He closed his eyes and crossed his arms, face lifted towards the sun, thinking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It had to do with Melissa?” Broadway prompted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>RIGHT!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Brooklyn snapped his fingers, remembering. He raised an eyebrow and smiled proudly. “We joined last night! And before anyone asks for details, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> kiss and tell.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Brook, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please</span>
  </em>
  <span>, tell me you were joking.” Hudson shook him again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The smile faded from Brooklyn’s face. “I’m not. We really did join last night.” He looked at the somber expression on the other gargoyles-turned-humans’ faces. “What’s with all the long faces?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hudson turned Brooklyn around and pointed to Goliath’s still-frozen face, keeping a hand on Brooklyn’s shoulder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brooklyn looked at Goliath and frowned. “So? What’s he got to be mad about?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It goes against tradition, Brook,” Hudson tightened his grip on Brooklyn.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“<em>SO</em>?! </span>
  <em>
    <span>Screw</span>
  </em>
  <span> tradition!” Brooklyn slapped Hudson’s hand off his shoulder. “If we did everything the </span>
  <em>
    <span>traditional</span>
  </em>
  <span> way, we’d never have survived waking up in New York! </span>
  <em>
    <span>Lex</span>
  </em>
  <span> plays videogames, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Broadway</span>
  </em>
  <span> eats General Tso’s Chicken every other night, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he jabbed a finger towards Hudson, “watch television every night! None of those things are ‘traditional,’ so </span>
  <em>
    <span>who cares</span>
  </em>
  <span> about me breaking another ‘tradition?!’”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Apparently </span>
  <em>
    <span>Goliath</span>
  </em>
  <span> cares,” Lexington said quietly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, that’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> fault. And why </span>
  <em>
    <span>should</span>
  </em>
  <span> he care?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Broadway jumped in, “he probably cares because he’s in love with Elisa.” The others turned to stare at Broadway, who crossed his arms stubbornly. “Any way you slice it, he cares a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot</span>
  </em>
  <span> about Elisa. More than he’s ever cared about any other human. It’s a classic </span>
  <em>
    <span>Romeo and Juliet</span>
  </em>
  <span> kind of story, we just haven’t gotten to the balcony scene yet!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The scene where they admit their feelings for each other,” Lexington remembered. “Goliath </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> seem awfully interested in Elisa when she got turned into a gargoyle.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hudson shook his head. “No, if anything, it started when he chose to save Elisa instead of Demona when the castle was falling down.” He scratched his beard again. “Broadway, I think ye’ might be right.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course I am! I’m telling you, it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>Romeo and Juliet</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but instead of Montagues and Capulets it’s Gargoyles and Humans!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fine, so if he loves Elisa, why would he be mad about me and Melissa? Wouldn’t my breaking that ‘tradition’ clear the way for him and Elisa to be together? He should be </span>
  <em>
    <span>thanking</span>
  </em>
  <span> me!” Brooklyn turned to look out at the city skyline in the sunshine, towards the apartment he had been to the night before.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And maybe he will, eventually,” Hudson said, looking back towards Goliath. “But for now, we should get you out of the clock tower before we wake Goliath. These human forms may be weaker than our regular ones, but it still wouldn’t be hard for him to toss ye’ off the roof.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brooklyn <em>looked</em> mildly annoyed, but he was far more upset than the others could tell. He had expected shock and disbelief, and he had hoped for congratulations and a little bit of jealousy, but he wasn't prepared for outright </span>
  <em>
    <span>disapproval</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely</span>
  </em>
  <span> wasn’t prepared to face Goliath’s wrath, not unless he wanted to get into a fight. And he </span>
  <em>
    <span>would</span>
  </em>
  <span> fight, if he needed to. No one was going to stop him from seeing Melissa, not even the clan leader.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fine. I’ll leave.” He began walking towards the glass door into the clock tower, but Matt stopped him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll take you to the safehouse.” He looked at the human version of Brooklyn, then at the other gargoyles. “I’ll also get you guys some </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span> clothes. You can’t go out in </span>
  <em>
    <span>just</span>
  </em>
  <span> loincloths.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>kilts</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” Broadway put his fists on his hips, outraged.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Matt shook his head. “Whatever they are, you’re going to attract a lot of attention if you go out in them. Just, wait here. I’ll see what we’ve got down in the precinct’s Lost and Found, pretend I’m taking them to a donation center.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Matt left, but the others stayed on the balcony. Broadway stared up at the sky, spreading his arms again. “It’s so warm.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They all nodded, and Hudson sighed. “Who knew we’d get to see the sun someday?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s beautiful,” Lexington said. Bronx barked in agreement.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They stared at the city in the daylight, a cool breeze ruffling their hair, enjoying the warmth of the sun on their skin for the first time.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0029"><h2>29. Twenty Nine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The gargoyles contemplate being human, and Melissa gets her self-defense lesson.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Matt managed to find enough in the precinct’s lost and found to clothe Brooklyn. Brooklyn sniffed at the t-shirt Matt had tossed to him and looked at the detective skeptically.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry, they get washed before we send them out for donation. It’s all clean.” He tossed Brooklyn a pair of jeans. “No underwear, though.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think I’d want lost and found undies, no matter how many times they’ve been washed.” Brooklyn pulled the black shirt over his head and looked at the logo on the front. “Ramones?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I figured that out of all the shirts in the lost and found, that one would suit you the best.” He tossed him a pair of jeans as well. “Try those on, see if they fit.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brooklyn looked around. “You know, I’ve never noticed that there’s nowhere to change in here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’ve never had to change before!” Lexington tapped his chin, thinking. “We don’t have a bathroom in here, either. We’ve never needed to shower or anything. The stone sleep takes care of all that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Broadway, about to bite into some leftover pizza, paused. “Wait, does that mean I’ll have to, uh, ‘use the facilities’ now?” He stared at the slice of pizza, debating if it was worth it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Guess we’ll just have to find out?” Lexington looked a little nervous. Broadway shrugged and bit into the pizza.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There’s a bathroom you guys can use on the top floor if you end up needing it, you’ll just have to be careful. It’s got showers, too.” Matt had a leather jacket folded over his arm and a pair of white canvas shoes in his hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brooklyn emerged from behind one of the gigantic gears of the clock tower’s mechanism. “They’re a little tight.” He pulled at them, shifting uncomfortably and wincing. “Be right back.” He ducked behind the gear again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Matt set the jacket and shoes on one of the stone steps and turned to the others. “So, how does it feel to be human?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Kind of chilly,” Lexington said, rubbing his arms but grinning. “I might go stand on the balcony again. In the </span>
  <em>
    <span>sun</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have to say, it’s lovely to finally see daylight,” Hudson said, glancing through the glass of the clock faces. “I might not have a fondness for magic, but I’m grateful it's let me feel the warmth of the sun on my face.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Things taste different,” Broadway said with a mouthful of pizza. He was standing in front of the fridge, reaching for another leftover takeout container. “It’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>bad</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>different</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I’m going to try all my favorite foods and see what they taste like now that I’m human!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s not supposed to be permanent, guys.” Matt wiggled his fingers. “You can take the rings off and become gargoyles again. Owen said something about there only being a certain number of uses, though. I’m not sure how many.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brooklyn emerged from behind the giant gear again looking significantly more comfortable. “A tip for when you guys get pants of your own: keep the under-layer on.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Matt shook his head, chuckling. “We’ll take care of clothes for everyone later tonight. Let’s get you out of here so I can wake Goliath up.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brooklyn sat on the stone steps to slip on the shoes without having to undo the laces, then pulled the jacket on. “Cool! This is like the one I had before the bike crash!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s yours to keep. Now, let’s get going. I’ve got to make a stop before I take you to the safehouse.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hang on, Matt!” Lexington called, pulling two small boxes out of the box Matt brought in. “Only </span>
  <em>
    <span>one</span>
  </em>
  <span> of these is for Goliath, right? The one that says ‘GLTH?’”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes. I didn’t realize there was an extra ring in here, what’s the box say?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It says ‘MLSA.’ Maybe it’s for Melissa?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Matt came and took the box from Lexington. The ring inside looked similar to Brooklyn’s, but slimmer, and instead of a thistle centered on the band, there was a diamond. “I think you’re right, Lex.” Broadway peeked over Matt’s shoulder and whistled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Matt closed the box and tossed it to Brooklyn. “Hold on to this, you’ll probably see her before the rest of us.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brooklyn opened the box and looked at the ring. “If our rings transformed us into humans, what’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>this ring</span>
  </em>
  <span> going to do to <em>her</em>?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Matt shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe it’ll turn her into a gargoyle, or maybe it won’t do anything.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Or maybe it’ll do something far worse,” Hudson growled, Bronx echoing him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Look, I know none of us <em>likes</em> Xanatos,” Matt said, heading for the hatch. “But it’d be a pretty big risk for him to send along a ring that would hurt one of his temporary allies and get the rest of us to turn on him. We’re not going to figure out what the ring does until she puts it on, but we’ll worry about that later. Come on, Brooklyn, let’s get you to the safehouse before we lose any more time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Right, we're 'burning daylight.'" Brooklyn smiled and followed after him, tripping a little on the ladder-stairs. It was going to take a while to get used to his human body.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>- - -</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Owen hooked an arm around my throat, and I grabbed it with my hands. But instead of trying to pull his arm off of me, I pulled his arm down as I bent forward, forcing him to dive headfirst over me. He slammed down on his back, the breath rushing out of him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Xanatos clapped, impressed. “Not bad, Miss Campbell.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I offered my hand to help Owen back to his feet. He was coughing from the fall, trying to get his breath back. “Thank you. It was a move I saw in one of our archived films. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Judo Jymnastics</span>
  </em>
  <span>, with a ‘j.’ It was a 1940’s self-defense film.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Interesting. You should have told me you weren’t a beginner.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’d still say I’m a beginner, </span>
  <em>
    <span>sensei</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Watching a film and actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>practicing</span>
  </em>
  <span> are two very different things.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you have any other moves to show us?” I nodded, and he motioned to Owen, who had recovered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, try grabbing me around my waist, like you were going to try and lift me up.” Once Owen had his arms wrapped around my stomach, I dropped forward again, reaching through my legs and grabbing his foot, pulling him off his feet. He let go of me as he fell on his back once again. If he had continued to hold me, my weight would have added to his shock. Either way, I was the winner again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Excellent!” Xanatos cheered approvingly as I helped Owen back up again. “Now it’s time for you to learn some new moves. How about you and Owen switch places?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I stood behind Owen and wrapped my arms around his torso. He tried bending forward like I had, but I had made sure my feet would be out of his reach. But I had been so distracted keeping my feet away from him that I didn’t notice him grab one of my arms with both of his hands and pull it away from him. He held onto my arm and stepped around me, forcing my arm behind my back. He drove his knee towards my face, stopping just before it made contact.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What did you think of that, Miss Campbell?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Owen let go of me and I stood, rubbing my shoulder. “Seems very effective.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Xanatos nodded. “There are plenty of other moves to teach you. For now, I’ll leave you in Owen’s tutelage. I have some business I need to take care of.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I spent the better part of two hours training with Owen. He showed me different grabs and flips to do on attackers no matter where they were positioned. He even showed me a few tactics to use against someone with a knife.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Owen and I were practicing when Xanatos came back. I had just disarmed Owen of his imaginary knife when Xanatos called out, “You know, that won’t work with a gun unless they get close to you. Hopefully anyone you face will have brought a knife.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I straightened my </span>
  <em>
    <span>gi</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Is your business concluded, </span>
  <em>
    <span>sensei</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Xanatos chuckled. “Yes. Business that was vital to preparing for Elisa’s rescue. I’ll go over the details later tonight. Owen, how’d she do?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Owen retrieved his glasses from one of the chairs. “She did well. As long as she can stay calm under pressure, she should be able to handle herself adequately.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Xanatos nodded thoughtfully. “I’m afraid ‘adequate’ isn’t quite good enough. Miss Campbell, how do you feel about weapons?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I remembered Matt mentioning that he hoped Xanatos would supply a stealthy weapon for me as well as the training. “In general I’m not exactly comfortable with them, but I wouldn’t mind having one for this mission.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I hoped that would be your answer.” He pulled something out of his coat pocket and tossed it to me.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was a gold tube, delicately engraved with wild roses. Small jewels were set into one end of the tube, making a single wild rose in deep red.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A tube of lipstick?” I held it up. “It’s beautiful, but I’m not sure how it’s going to help me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It merely </span>
  <em>
    <span>looks</span>
  </em>
  <span> like a tube of lipstick. If you press the rose on the top of the tube - </span>
  <em>
    <span>DON’T!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” He dashed over to me and roughly grasped my hand before I could touch the jeweled rose. I tried to pull away, but he held my hand tight. “Pressing the rose will release a small dose of a paralytic gas from the other end, enough to incapacitate a horse. It’s a single use, so don’t use it unless you really need to.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He loosened his grip and I pulled away from him, flexing my hand. “Thanks.” I looked at the tube again. “It’s very pretty. And </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> James Bond-eque.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The clever inventions were one of my favorite parts of the films. I’d say they were one of the many inspirations that made me who I am today. Now, if you’d like to change again, Owen will give you a ride home. I believe we’re meeting back here tonight to discuss the whole plan, so go get some rest. It’s going to be a long night.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He turned and left the room again, nodding to Owen. I looked at Owen, who merely straightened his glasses and began walking towards the locker rooms. “Please leave the </span>
  <em>
    <span>gi</span>
  </em>
  <span> in the laundry basket after you change. I will meet you out here in five minutes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The car ride back to the apartment-safehouse was very quiet. I thought about asking Owen how he knew the safehouse’s location, but the silence in the car felt overpowering. Instead, I watched the city pass by behind darkly tinted windows.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We drove into a parking garage, then up to a shuttered door marked “D.” The door was locked with a digital combination lock that Owen was somehow able to open.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Owen? Does this apartment belong to Xanatos, by any chance?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, but it does belong to one of his acquaintances.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I thought it belonged to one of Matt’s contacts.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Detective Bluestone and Mr. Xanatos have a social circle that overlaps. Let’s leave it at that.” He pressed a button and raised the shuttered doors, revealing an elevator. “Have a pleasant rest of your day, Miss Campbell. We’ll expect to see you again tonight.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He waited until the elevator doors were almost closed before getting into the car. I sighed. The self-defense lesson had been helpful, but hard. Now, all I wanted was more coffee, another hot shower, and a nap.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The elevator reached the top floor and dinged, opening up to the other side of the foyer’s closet doors. I pushed them open, kicking off my sneakers and tossing my purse on the small table. I turned and closed the closet doors behind me when I heard it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Footsteps.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Inside</span>
  </em>
  <span> the apartment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I froze, looking slowly towards the main room. The footsteps squeaked a little. Whoever was here was in the kitchen, their rubber soles on the tiled floor. Heading towards the main room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The elevator had already started descending. If I pressed the button, it would still be too late to jump back in, and there wasn’t enough room to hide behind the wooden doors.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A figure came into the doorway and I stepped back, my eyes going wide. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A person - a man - smiled and held out his arms. “Welcome home!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I took a deep breath, my throat tight and dry.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“<em>Who are you</em>?!”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Judo Jymnastics is an actual 1940's self-defense film! Here's the link to the YouTube video if you'd like to watch it: https://youtu.be/XKuqi-wbyl4</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0030"><h2>30. Thirty*</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Melissa discovers a stranger in the safehouse.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>* means sexy stuff but it’s LIGHT (making out), no major plot points if you want to skip but some relationship development happens!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The man in the doorway stared at me, confused. “Melissa, it’s <em> me </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>I shook my head. “I don’t know you, how did you get in here?!”</p><p> </p><p>“Matt dropped me off. Melissa, it’s <em> me </em> !” A hurt look crossed his face. “ <em> Brooklyn </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>I looked at the human standing in front of me, claiming to be Brooklyn. He had the lean muscles of Brooklyn's physique, but this <em> human </em> wasn’t, <em> couldn’t </em> be Brooklyn.</p><p> </p><p>He was a pale human man, tall, with a long mane of white hair descending from a widow’s peak, down his back. He had an aquiline nose, which could have been a human translation of Brooklyn’s original beak, if he was telling the truth. His face was long and slim, with high, sharp cheekbones. His eyebrows were very mobile, and he could express any emotion in the same way a human could. In the same way <em> I </em> could.</p><p> </p><p>“You <em> can’t </em> be Brooklyn. He’s not...you’re a <em> human </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, this is gonna be a little hard to explain, but I <em> promise </em> there’s an explanation! And maybe, after the explanation...” This strange, Twilight Zone version of Brooklyn, if that’s who he <em> really </em> was, looked at me with a raised eyebrow and a devilish grin. “...we could make use of <em> this </em> while it lasts?” He motioned to his entire body.</p><p> </p><p>“No. <em> NO </em> . I don’t know <em> who </em> you are or <em> what </em> you’re doing here, but you need to leave.”</p><p> </p><p>“You really can’t tell that it’s me?” The hurt look crossed his face again.</p><p> </p><p>“You...you really don’t look like <em> Brooklyn </em>,” I hesitated.</p><p> </p><p>He took a few steps towards me. “I know I don’t look like myself,” the man in front of me said, looking at me with dark eyes. “But I promise, it’s <em> me </em> . Look,” he held up his hand and pointed to a dark metal ring. “Matt Bluestone gave us these rings, and they turned us from gargoyles into humans, into <em> this </em> ! It’s <em> me </em>!”</p><p> </p><p>I looked him up and down, trying to see this human as a version of Brooklyn, and I wasn’t sure that I liked it. He didn’t have horns, or a tail, or wings, or talons, or a beak, or gargoyle-ish ears, or sharp teeth. It was <em> daylight </em>. It didn’t feel right.</p><p> </p><p>I looked at him, folding my arms in front of me like a barrier between us, and challenged him. “Can you <em> prove </em> that you’re Brooklyn? Your voice sounds the same, and your hair looks the same. But can you <em> prove </em> it’s really you?”</p><p> </p><p>The man in front of me smirked, stepping towards me again, spreading his arms. “Sure. How about you come over here and I can <em> show </em> you it’s me? Maybe with a kiss? All you need to do is open your mouth.” His smirk turned into a wicked grin.</p><p> </p><p>I blanched and backed up a few steps. A stranger, claiming to be someone I cared for, was trying to convince me to kiss him, as ‘proof’ of his identity. </p><p> </p><p>What if this <em> wasn’t </em> Brooklyn? Was I just going to do what this <em> stranger </em> told me? If it wasn’t Brooklyn, then this human was asking to put his lips on mine, to touch me, things that I only, <em> only </em> wanted to do with Brooklyn.</p><p> </p><p>Did I even know Brooklyn well enough to be able to tell that it was him?</p><p> </p><p>I wasn’t going to risk it.</p><p> </p><p>“You’ve got <em> one chance </em> to show me that you’re Brooklyn,” I said harshly, stopping him in his tracks. “If you’re <em> not </em> him, then I’ll rip your testicles off. Deal?”</p><p> </p><p>The man looked dismayed, glancing down briefly, then determined. “Deal.”</p><p> </p><p>I stared at him, waiting for him to prove himself.</p><p> </p><p>He took another step towards me, that leering grin spreading over his face again. “Come on, come over here and open your mouth,” he repeated. He said it teasingly, invitingly.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Stop</em> <em>telling me to open my mouth</em>!” He stopped again, a surprised look on his face. “Why can’t you just <em>tell me</em> something to prove you’re Brooklyn?!”</p><p> </p><p>“Aw, come on! That’s not as fun!”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> LEAVE. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“What?!”</p><p> </p><p>“I said you had <em> one chance </em> to prove that you’re Brooklyn, and you must <em> not </em> be him, or you’ve wasted it, I <em> don’t care </em> . I’ll let you leave with your testicles intact, but you have to leave. <em> NOW </em>.” I didn’t realize I had kept backing up until my back hit the door to the hallway.</p><p> </p><p>He looked at me worriedly. Whoever this was hadn’t expected me to be so scared, and seemed to finally be taking me seriously. </p><p> </p><p>He held up his hands, palms out, and took a small step forward. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”</p><p> </p><p>My mind flashed back to the first time I had met the gargoyles. To Brooklyn, approaching me carefully so I wouldn’t startle. The man had done the same gesture, said the same phrase. With the same voice.</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t try to come any closer. But I needed more than just <em> that </em> to prove it was him.</p><p> </p><p>“What was the joke Broadway made, the first night we met?”</p><p> </p><p>The man huffed and rolled his eyes. “He said my ‘ugly face’ made you cry.”</p><p> </p><p>“What did I give Bronx the night after?”</p><p> </p><p>“A beef bone. Then I asked if you had brought me one, because you apologized for crying in front of us, and I told you I preferred steak.” He patted his stomach. “Because bones are hard to digest.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Brooklyn </em>...”</p><p> </p><p>It <em> was </em> him.</p><p> </p><p>I stayed where I was. He stayed where he was.</p><p> </p><p>“I told you,” he shrugged, keeping his hands up, palms out, with a hopeful smile. “It’s really me.”</p><p> </p><p>“But...but, what <em> happened </em> to you?! Why are you a <em> human </em>?!”</p><p> </p><p>He held up his hand, wiggling his fingers. “This ring. Actually,” he looked down at his hand, “Matt never explained <em> why </em> they work.”</p><p> </p><p>“When Matt dropped me off to train, Owen handed him a box. I didn’t see what was inside it, but maybe they came from Xanatos?”</p><p> </p><p>“That might make sense.” The man - no, <em> Brooklyn </em> - shook his head. “However it happened, it <em> happened </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“So, how long are you human?”</p><p> </p><p>“Until I take this ring off. I think. It’s supposed to help up with the rescue mission tomorrow.”</p><p> </p><p>I slowly walked towards Brooklyn, taking in his human form. He wore jeans, a Ramones shirt, canvas shoes, and a leather jacket. I reached out, running my hand along the sleeve, feeling the leather. Brooklyn smiled. “Yeah, Matt found this in the precinct’s lost and found. It’s a lot like the one I had before the bike crash.”</p><p> </p><p>I looked up at him. “You mean the bike <em> explosion </em> that Lexington mentioned?”</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, it <em> wasn’t </em> my fault! I was attacked!”</p><p> </p><p>It was so familiar, talking with this man, that it made me smile. He smiled back at me, seeming to relax.</p><p> </p><p>I raised my hand and ran it over his hair, still the same texture as it was in his gargoyle form. I slid my hand down to his cheek. “This is so <em> bizarre </em> , Brooklyn. You look so <em> different </em> as a human.”</p><p> </p><p>He lifted his hand to cover mine. “Is it a <em> bad </em> kind of ‘different?’ Or a <em> good </em> kind?”</p><p> </p><p>“Just...<em> different </em>. It’s like listening to the same song in a different genre. The lyrics and the notes are all the same, but the way they’re played is…”</p><p> </p><p>“...different,” he finished for me. “But, that’s not a bad thing, is it?”</p><p> </p><p>I smiled at him. “I think as long as it’s a song you <em> like </em>, it doesn’t matter what genre it’s in.”</p><p> </p><p>He began to reach for my waist with his free hand, but hesitated. He looked at me, his hand tightening over mine, his dark eyes searching my face. “Is this okay?”</p><p> </p><p>Was it?</p><p> </p><p>“I, I don’t know.” He started to pull his hand away, but I reached forward and placed my hand on his arm, stopping him. “We need to go slow, but...I think I’d like to find out?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow and smirked, the gesture looking odd on his beakless face. </p><p> </p><p>I realized then that I was hesitating because I missed <em> him </em>, the way he normally looked.</p><p> </p><p>“Brooklyn, I need you to know something first.”</p><p> </p><p>His smirk turned into a serious expression. “Alright, what’s that?” He still took communicating seriously. My heart thumped in my chest, relieved and touched that at least <em> this </em> was still the same.</p><p> </p><p>“I prefer you as a gargoyle.”</p><p> </p><p>“You do?” He seemed stunned. “Are you sure? You <em> prefer </em> the horns and the talons?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes. Don’t get me wrong, you make a handsome human, but...I like you as <em> yourself </em>. As a gargoyle”</p><p> </p><p>He gently pulled me towards him, both hands on my waist, and tilted his head down to look at me. “Tell me again. <em> Please </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>I reached up to hold his human head in my hands, leaning in so close our lips brushed together, lighter than air. “I prefer you as a gargoyle,” I said in a hushed voice.</p><p> </p><p>He sighed heavily, as if I had just told him something fantastically sexy rather than that I preferred his true form to this human one he was currently in. But maybe there’s nothing sexier than accepting someone for who they are, body and soul.</p><p> </p><p>Even when they aren’t currently in the body you know.</p><p> </p><p>“I prefer you as a gargoyle,” I repeated in a husky whisper, “but we can still have some fun like this.” I leaned in for Brooklyn’s first humanoid-lip-to-humanoid-lip kiss.</p><p> </p><p>He crashed his face into me, our lips smashing together, his tongue dancing with mine. The suddenness of it was the <em> opposite </em> of ‘taking it slow,’ but I was too distracted by the kiss to think about that. It felt <em> off </em>. </p><p> </p><p>It only took me a few seconds to realize why this felt so similar - but so <em> weird </em> - to kissing Brooklyn as a gargoyle: he wasn’t using his lips, <em> just </em> his tongue.</p><p> </p><p>When Brooklyn was in gargoyle form, he <em> couldn’t </em> use his lips on me. But, now that he had them, he didn’t know <em> how </em> to use them on me. All the movements of his tongue were the same, although his tongue didn’t reach as far into my mouth as it had when he was a gargoyle. But he wasn't moving his lips. At all.</p><p> </p><p>I pulled away from him, keeping my hands on his cheeks. A confused and panicked look passed over his human features. “Wait, I thought you believed that I was me?!”</p><p> </p><p>“What? Oh, yes, I believe that you’re Brooklyn.” He smiled and quietly whispered "<em>whew</em>” under his breath. “But you haven’t done this as a <em> human </em> before. You’ve got a lot to learn.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sounds like fun,” Brooklyn said, smiling.</p><p> </p><p>“I think it will be, but we need to go slow. <em> Way </em> slower than last night.”</p><p> </p><p>He leaned his forehead against mine. “As long as it’s with <em> you </em>, ‘going slow’ will be just as much fun.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I smiled. “Okay, let’s try that again. And remember, </span>
  <em>
    <span>slow</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You’re not exactly the most talented kisser as a human.” I leaned in and tilted my head up to him. “Is this okay?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>“What should I do?”</p><p> </p><p>“Relax your face, and let’s leave tongues out of it. For now.”</p><p> </p><p>I could feel his smile in his cheeks. “Alright.” He cleared his throat, relaxing his lips. “I’m ready.”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0031"><h2>31. Thirty One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Goliath is awake and ANGRY.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Matt took a deep breath, the others standing around him, waiting. He held Goliath’s ring in his hand. It was the widest and heaviest out of all the rings Owen had enchanted. It had a similar motif to the other rings, but it was silver inlaid with gold, twisting lines forming intricate knots around the thistles. Matt took another deep breath, unsure if he wanted to wake the sleeping, <em> angry </em> gargoyle.</p><p> </p><p>Hudson placed a hand on Matt’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’ll help get him under control once he’s transformed.”</p><p> </p><p>Matt nodded and reached out to place the ring on Goliath’s hand.</p><p> </p><p>Goliath’s transformation was faster than the ones the others went through. Goliath’s roar was also filled with more pain, and the snapping and reshaping of his bones was louder. He stumbled off of the stone podium with Hudson and Broadway’s help, clutching his head in both hands. He shook Hudson and Broadway off of him, eyes darting around the balcony, looking.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Where’s Brooklyn </em>?!” Even though Goliath couldn’t growl the same way he did in his gargoyle form, the growl in his human voice was no less intimidating.</p><p> </p><p>“He’s not here, Goliath,” Hudson said, keeping his voice calm.</p><p> </p><p>“Then <em> where is he </em> ?! We need to speak. <em> Now </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’ll see him after you’ve cooled off a little,” Matt said.</p><p> </p><p>“You know where he is?” Goliath glared at Matt. “Bring him to me <em> now </em> .” He turned to stare at a building in the distance. “Or perhaps I’ll just go to <em> him </em>.” He began to walk towards the balcony railing.</p><p> </p><p>“Goliath, <em> wait!” </em> Lexington ran forward, blocking Goliath from the railing. “If you jump off the balcony, <em> you’ll die </em>!”</p><p> </p><p>“Nonsense, Lexington.” Goliath kept his eyes on the building, determined. “I will go to that apartment, and I <em> will </em> speak with Brooklyn!”</p><p> </p><p>“How are you going to get there without any wings?” Goliath turned to glare at Broadway. His glare turned to surprise when he saw that Broadway wasn’t in his gargoyle form.</p><p> </p><p>“You...you’re human? Then the spell Owen cast must have worked.” He looked down at his hand and noticed the silver and gold ring.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, it worked, and right now <em> none of us </em> could survive a fall from the balcony <em> without our wings </em>, so you might want to consider that before jumping off.” Lexington held up his arms, showing the absence of his webbing.</p><p> </p><p>Goliath looked over his shoulder, then back down at his newly transformed body. As a human, Goliath had a darker complexion than the rest of the clan, but otherwise looked very similar to his gargoyle form. He was still much taller than the others, with a stronger build. He looked almost as powerful as he was as a gargoyle. Goliath seemed to lose some of his anger as he stared at his human body.</p><p> </p><p>“The spell Owen put on the rings works,” Matt said slowly, “but it seems to be a lot more painful than we realized. You guys might want to stay as humans for a little while, get used to them, and maybe avoid having to go through more transformations until the mission’s complete.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ye’ also said something about a limited number of uses.” Hudson reminded Matt. “Any idea of how many?”</p><p> </p><p>Matt shook his head. “We can see if Owen knows when we meet with Xanatos to finalize the plan tonight. For now, you guys should relax. I’m working on finding enough clothes for all of you before you leave the clock tower. I don’t know if New York City could handle a few half-naked guys walking around in the daylight.”</p><p> </p><p>Goliath stopped and looked out over the city, then up towards the sun. “That’s right. This is daylight.” He closed his eyes and let the sunshine wash over his face. “This warmth...it’s almost like sitting near a fire.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s better than sitting next to a fire,” Lexington said, stretching his arms out to soak up more sun.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, it can still burn you if you’re out too long in it, so be careful” Matt turned to walk towards the glass door. “I’m going to go find you clothes. I’ll be back soon.”</p><p> </p><p>“Will you be bringing Brooklyn with you?” An edge returned to Goliath’s voice. It seemed like no amount of sunshine was going to make him completely forget his anger.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll see how you’re feeling when I come back.” Matt cast a knowing look at the others before walking through the glass door.</p><p> </p><p>Goliath glared at the remaining companions. “I assume you want to try to talk me <em> out </em> of speaking with Brooklyn. As the clan leader, I <em> must </em> speak with him about his…’ <em> relationship </em> ’...with Melissa. It goes against every tradition our clan has of interacting with <em> humans </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, you know, Goliath, Brooklyn brought up that we haven’t <em> really </em> been doing things the traditional way since we woke up in New York,” Broadway said. “You know, like how I like going to see the detective flicks?”</p><p> </p><p>Goliath turned to Broadway. “Going to see a film is <em> not </em> the same as <em> joining with a human </em> . There have <em> always </em> been rules governing how we should interact with humans, for <em> our safety </em>. We’re vulnerable in the stone sleep, and the trust between a gargoyle and human clan can be a fragile thing. Easily broken, as we all remember.”</p><p> </p><p>The group was silent except for a few whines from Bronx, remembering the annihilation of their clan over one thousand years ago. An annihilation at the hands of the very humans they had trusted.</p><p> </p><p>Goliath shook his head angrily. “Gargoyles and humans joining would put <em> any </em> truce between us in jeopardy. A broken heart or a bragging lover on either side could have started <em> wars </em> between our kind and theirs. Now, we are outnumbered and in hiding. What would happen if Melissa chose to reveal Brooklyn to her friends? She may not do so out of any ill intent, but the damage would be done, and more humans - humans who may not be <em> trustworthy </em> - would know about our existence. Or what if she spurned Brooklyn, tossed him aside like a plaything? <em> Demona </em> tricked him into stealing the <em> Grimorum Arcanorum </em> for her, and it eats at him to this day. Do any of you <em> truly </em> think that he would not want revenge on a <em> human </em> who had broken his trust <em> and </em>his heart?”</p><p> </p><p>“Jalapeña,” Lexington sighed wearily.</p><p> </p><p>“You know, Goliath, you’re starting to sound a little like Demona.” Hudson shook his head. “All of this <em> distrust </em> in humans, the ones <em> we </em> want to live alongside, creates bad allies out of <em> us </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“I sound <em> nothing </em> like that witch!” Goliath yelled angrily, the echo faintly bouncing off of faraway buildings. “ <em> She </em> would wish to <em> destroy </em> all the humans, as she’s wanted since we were cursed. I don’t want the humans <em> destroyed </em> , Hudson. I just want to protect my <em> clan </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“I think Demona’d make the same argument, lad.”</p><p> </p><p>“Think what you want.” Goliath folded his arms across his chest and stared down at the others sternly. “As the leader of this clan, I must make decisions that benefit <em> all </em> of us, no matter who it upsets. This <em> joining </em> cannot be tolerated, for the safety of our <em> clan </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“Goliath,” Hudson warned, “Think <em> carefully </em> about if this is <em> really </em> how you want to proceed. Once you tell Brook he <em> can’t </em> see the lass, it could drive him away from the clan.”</p><p> </p><p>Broadway nodded. “Look, Brooklyn fell <em> hard </em> for Maggie just a few minutes after meeting her. Trust me, I was <em> there </em> . He’s got to be head over heels for Melissa by now!” Broadway shook his head. “If you try to keep them apart, it’ll just be <em> Romeo and Juliet </em> all over again.”</p><p> </p><p>“What if it was you and Elisa, Goliath?” Goliath turned to look at Hudson, stunned.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s...she’s...we’re not…”</p><p> </p><p>“But what if ye’ <em> were </em>, Goliath? Would you let anyone stop you?”</p><p> </p><p>Goliath clenched his jaw. “Elisa would <em> never </em> put us in danger.”</p><p> </p><p>“And <em> how </em> do ye’ know that, Goliath?”</p><p> </p><p>Lexington pointed at Goliath as they both said in unison, “<em> Because I know her </em>.” Goliath looked at him, confused. “Lexington, what-”</p><p> </p><p>“I <em> knew </em> you were going to say that! And you know what <em> Brooklyn </em> would say? <em> Everything you just said </em>.</p><p> </p><p>“We’ve known Elisa for <em> much longer </em> than we’ve known Melissa.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, but you <em> trusted her </em> a few hours after meeting her!” Lexington threw his hands up, exasperated. “This is <em> hopeless </em>!”</p><p> </p><p>Goliath looked at the others. “We seem to be at odds. I will…” He sighed heavily. “I will <em> consider </em> what you have said. But the final decision is mine.”</p><p><br/>“Yours, <em> and </em> Brooklyn’s.” Broadway frowned sadly. “I hope you’re not the one who’s playing Mercutio.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0032"><h2>32. Thirty Two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Melissa and Brooklyn share a meal.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Each time we tried to kiss, something went wrong. </p><p> </p><p>The first kiss, Brooklyn didn’t know he had lips he could use instead of just his tongue.</p><p> </p><p>The second time was like kissing a wax figure. He hadn’t moved <em> at all </em>.</p><p> </p><p>The third time, he had pursed his lips so tightly that lip-to-lip contact actually hurt.</p><p> </p><p>We both sighed, frustrated beyond belief.</p><p> </p><p>“Should we try one more time?” As frustrated as he was, he still had a little bit of hope in his voice. “I think I know what I’m doing wrong.”</p><p> </p><p>I sighed again. “Sure, one more time.”</p><p> </p><p>I started to lean forward, but stopped when I realized he had his mouth wide open. He stood there, eyes closed, mouth opened so wide it was like he was at a dental cleaning.</p><p> </p><p>I couldn’t help it. I burst into a fit of giggles and snickers.</p><p> </p><p>He closed his mouth and opened his eyes, hurt and embarrassment and frustration warring across his face.</p><p> </p><p>I was breathless from laughing. “I, I’m <em> sorry </em> , it’s just, you were <em> standing </em> there, with your mouth <em> wide open </em>!” I dissolved into giggles again.</p><p> </p><p>He turned away from me, his face turning bright red. “Glad you think it’s <em> so funny </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>The hurt in his voice and the slump in his shoulders drove my inane laughter away. He stood with his back to me now, hands jammed into his jacket pocket. I could see part of his face in the gold-framed mirror in the foyer hallway. He looked hurt. Heartbroken.</p><p> </p><p>“Brooklyn…” I gently reached forward and tugged on one of his hands, pulling it out of the jacket pocket to hold it in mine. He half turned, trying to hide the hurt. “I’m sorry. I really<em> am </em> sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>He sighed and looked away, towards the main room. “What does <em> that </em> ‘I’m sorry’ mean?”</p><p> </p><p>“It means...that this is hard. A <em> lot </em> harder than when you were a gargoyle. Which is kind of ironic, right?” He turned to look at me, his eyebrow raised skeptically. “We thought this would be easier if we were both the same.”</p><p> </p><p>“And it isn’t. Obviously.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Brooklyn </em>.” I reached out to touch his cheek, but he turned away sharply. I lowered my hand.</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe...maybe <em> this </em> was too fast.” My heart stopped at his words.</p><p> </p><p>“‘This,’ meaning, ‘us?’” I asked quietly.</p><p> </p><p>“What? No!” He turned back towards me. “<em> No </em> . I meant, maybe <em> this </em>,” he motioned to his human body, “was too fast. Maybe I just need some time to get used to…”</p><p> </p><p>“To not having a beak?”</p><p> </p><p>He rubbed his hand over his mouth experimentally. “Yeah. For one thing, I can’t see my mouth when I look down. When I have a beak, I <em> always </em> see my mouth. It’s kind of weird.”</p><p> </p><p>“Huh...I never thought about that.” I lowered my eyes to the floor, trying to see if <em> I </em> could see my mouth. It must have looked ridiculous, and I heard him snicker.</p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t either.” He turned to the mirror, rubbing his hand over his mouth again. He pinched lightly at his lips, pulling them around. “I’m not used to having squishy lips, either.”</p><p> </p><p>An idea popped into my head. “You’ve probably never eaten anything without having a beak, right?”</p><p> </p><p>He nodded. “I’ve only taken a human form one other time, and it wasn’t for very long.”</p><p> </p><p>“How about we have something to eat, then?”</p><p> </p><p>He looked at me from the mirror, confused. “We’re just going to give up on the kissing thing?”</p><p> </p><p>I leaned forward to hook my chin over his shoulder, smiling at him in the mirror. “<em> Kissing </em> might be a more advanced technique for someone who’s <em> never </em> had a humanoid mouth. So, we should start with something more basic, like <em> eating </em> and <em> drinking </em>!”</p><p> </p><p>He met my eyes in the mirror and raised an eyebrow again, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Are you sure you’re not suggesting this because <em> you’re </em> hungry?”</p><p> </p><p>“Hmmm,” I tilted my head playfully, pretending to think. “Maybe. Let’s see what we can find!” I tugged his hand and headed towards the kitchen.</p><p> </p><p>I scrounged around the kitchen, looking through the pantry and refrigerator for different kinds of food. By the end of my hunt, I had gathered several bottles of classic cola, more cereal, some marshmallows, a few apples, dry spaghetti, and a jar of marinara sauce.</p><p> </p><p>He looked at the food spread out on the large kitchen table as I set a pot of water to boil on the stovetop. “That looks like a lot of food…”</p><p> </p><p>“It is, but it’s all food that you eat differently! It’ll help you get used to not having a beak!” I reached over and opened the bag with marshmallows in it, taking one out and handing it to him. “Let’s start with something easy. This is squishy, and soft, and it kind of sticks to your teeth.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve had a marshmallow before, Melissa,” he said dryly.</p><p> </p><p>I blushed, but went on. “Right, <em> but </em> you’ve only had one when you had a beak <em> and </em> sharper teeth. I think it’s going to be a very different experience for you <em> now </em>.” I got a marshmallow for myself. “Ready?”</p><p> </p><p>He shrugged and popped the whole marshmallow into his mouth, biting down on it. I smiled and did the same with my marshmallow, watching him. The marshmallow made a huge lump on the inside of his cheek, and he tilted his head like he was trying to shake the marshmallow into a different part of his mouth.</p><p> </p><p>“Try moving it with your tongue,” I said. Or, I <em> tried </em> to say. The half-chewed marshmallow in my mouth made it sound more like, “Eye ooving i’ wi’ oar ungeh.”</p><p> </p><p>He looked at me and shook his head, unable to understand what I was saying. I swallowed my marshmallow and tried again. “I said, try moving it with your tongue, like this.” I popped another marshmallow into my open mouth, moving it from one side of my mouth to the other with my tongue.</p><p> </p><p>He snickered, trying to keep the remnants of his marshmallow in his mouth, making his cheeks puff out. I started to laugh, my second marshmallow falling to the floor, making both of us laugh harder. </p><p> </p><p>"You've got to finish eating it, we’ve got more foods to try!” I scooped the marshmallow off the floor and took it to the trash can.</p><p> </p><p>Brooklyn swallowed his marshmallow and stretched his jaw. “Alright, you were right, that <em> was </em> different than eating with my beak. What’s next?”</p><p> </p><p>“How about...cereal? We’ll try it <em> without </em> the milk, though.” I brought out two bowls and spoons.</p><p> </p><p>“Melissa, I <em> also </em> know how-”</p><p> </p><p>“-how to eat with a spoon?” I finished for him. He nodded. “I know, but you haven’t eaten with a spoon <em> without a beak </em> . Give me a <em> little </em> credit, Brooklyn!”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, fine, you’re the boss!” He caught the bowl of dry cereal that I slid towards him and picked up a spoon. He scooped up some cereal and brought the spoon near his mouth. He had misjudged the angle and hit his teeth with the spoon, but he was able to get most of the cereal in his mouth. He crunched down on the cereal, coughing a little at the dryness.</p><p> </p><p>I found two glasses and filled them with water, handing one to him. He looked at it warily, strategizing as I placed spaghetti into the finally boiling pot. “I suggest resting it on your lip <em> before </em> tipping it.” I demonstrated, holding the glass to my bottom lip, then tilting it.</p><p> </p><p>He did the same, only spilling a little bit of water over the sides of the glass. He wiped the drops off of his face with the back of his jacket sleeve, and tried another sip. “I think I might be getting the hang of this.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good! Here, try this next.” I handed him an apple. “For this one, you’re going to want to go teeth-first.”</p><p> </p><p>“Teeth-first?” He raised an eyebrow.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, you’ve got to bite into it. Or, I could cut it up for you if you want.”  I smirked and emptied the jar of marinara sauce into a smaller pot, setting it to heat on the stove.</p><p> </p><p>He shook his head and tried to bite into the apple. His teeth slipped on the apple’s skin until he got the right angle. “These are tougher than I thought,” he said around a mouthful of apple.</p><p> </p><p>The late afternoon sun shone through the kitchen windows, and I pulled the spaghetti out of the boiling water using tongs while Brooklyn continued eating the apple. We caught each other’s eye across the kitchen, him sitting at the kitchen table while I made two plates of spaghetti and marinara sauce. We both smiled at each other, and I wondered if he was enjoying our little vignette of domesticity as much as I was.</p><p> </p><p>I brought the plates to the kitchen table as he tossed the apple core into the trash can a few feet away. “Now the final test: spaghetti and sauce, <em> and </em>,” I slid one of the soda bottles to him, “drinking out of a glass bottle.”</p><p> </p><p>“You know, I’ve never been able to <em> slurp noodles </em> before. That’s allowed, right?”</p><p> </p><p>“Slurping? In this <em> fine establishment </em>?” I winked. “I’ll let it slide.”</p><p> </p><p>I watched him spin his fork into the noodles and lift it to his mouth. Sauce spread all over his mouth as he ate mouthful after mouthful of spaghetti, contorting his lips to slurp up stray noodles. I plucked a napkin from the holder on the table and handed it to him. “For when you’re done,” I said with a smile.</p><p> </p><p>He swallowed his last forkful of spaghetti and wiped at his face, reaching for one of the sodas. “So, is this what it’s like?”</p><p> </p><p>“What ‘what’ is like?”</p><p> </p><p>“Being a human.”</p><p> </p><p>“We’re just sitting here eating a meal. It’s not like you guys don’t eat at the clock tower.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know, but…” He looked around the kitchen, then back to me. “We’re just sitting here, eating a meal! There’s no pressure to go out on patrol, to fight off bad guys. We get to just...<em> be </em> here.”</p><p> </p><p>I reached across the kitchen table, taking his hand in mine. “Don’t forget, we <em> still </em> need to locate a missing detective and maybe shut down a kidnapping ring tied to a group that calls themselves the Four Horsemen. <em> But </em> ,” I squeezed his hand, “it <em> is </em> really nice to be in a sunny kitchen, eating spaghetti with you.”</p><p> </p><p>He smiled at me, squeezing my hand. “And maybe after we’re done eating, we could...try again?”</p><p> </p><p>Before I could respond I heard the elevator ding. Matt had arrived.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0033"><h2>33. Thirty Three</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Melissa learns a little about gargoyle traditions.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Melissa? Brooklyn? Are you guys….uh…decent?”</p><p> </p><p>A bright pink blush seeped into my cheeks. “<em> You told him?! </em>” I whispered to Brooklyn.</p><p> </p><p>“I kind of had to,” Brooklyn whispered back. He turned towards the kitchen doorway and called out, “We’re in the kitchen, Matt!”</p><p> </p><p>“But are you <em> decent </em>?” Matt called back.</p><p> </p><p>I groaned and buried my face in my hands. “Yes, <em> Matt </em> , we’re <em> decent </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>He walked into the kitchen, relieved to see that we were just sitting at the kitchen table. “Sorry to interrupt you two, I just came to pick you up so we could head to the clock tower, then to Xanatos’ place.”</p><p> </p><p>“Is it <em> safe </em> to go to the clock tower?” Brooklyn asked with a slight bit of annoyance in his voice. “Safe for <em> me </em>, I mean?”</p><p> </p><p>“Why would the clock tower be <em> unsafe </em> for you?” I looked between Brooklyn and Matt. “What’s going on?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, when Goliath found out about you two,” Matt motioned to us, “he got a little...upset.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why would <em> Goliath </em> be <em> upset</em>? How did he find out?!” I looked at Brooklyn, but he just shook his head.</p><p> </p><p>“I went back over there with more clothes for the others,” Matt said, sitting at the kitchen table. “They were able to calm Goliath down, but they weren’t able to make him let it go. You’re still in for a fight when you get there.”</p><p> </p><p>Brooklyn leaned back in his chair and frowned. “<em> Great </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“Will one of you <em> please </em> tell me why <em> Goliath </em> would be upset about Brooklyn and I?”</p><p> </p><p>Brooklyn cleared his throat. “Technically, gargoyle and human joining is against tradition.”</p><p> </p><p>I blinked at him. “It’s...it’s against the rules?!”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Tradition </em> , but they might as well be <em> rules </em>,” Brooklyn said sourly. “No one in our clan has ever joined with a human.”</p><p> </p><p>“Never? As in, <em> never </em>?”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s what Hudson told me,” Matt said, reaching for one of the soda bottles.</p><p> </p><p>“But…” I looked at Brooklyn. “You weren’t bothered by the fact that I was human, <em> ever </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Brooklyn raised an eyebrow. “<em> You </em> weren’t bothered by the fact that I was a <em> gargoyle </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, but we don’t really have any pre-set traditions of how humans and gargoyles are supposed to act around each other! Or, not anymore, I guess. <em> And </em> we’ve got a <em> lot </em> of stories about people falling in love with human-ish non-humans.”</p><p> </p><p>“Like <em> Beauty and the Beast </em>?”</p><p> </p><p>“Like <em> La Belle et la Bête </em> , yes.” Matt looked at me questioningly. “It’s the Villeneuve version, about 300 years <em> before </em> Disney. <em> But </em> , getting back to the matter at hand, in our modern times we’ve never had to deal with humans and gargoyles joining, but it sounds like <em> you </em> did, back in Scotland.”</p><p> </p><p>Brooklyn shook his head. “We never had to make any rules against it outright, but that probably has more to do with the humans we were around. Things weren’t exactly <em> friendly </em> between our clans. I don’t think anyone ever even <em> thought </em> about a gargoyle wanting to join with a human, or vice versa.”</p><p> </p><p>“Meaning that if you never talked about it,” I said slowly, “then it was more like a tradition by omission?”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s not a bad way to put it, actually.” He smiled at me slyly. “You and I are trailblazers of human-gargoyle joining for our clan.”</p><p> </p><p>“Except that, according to Matt and the other gargoyles, I assume, Goliath isn’t on-board with this change in tradition?”</p><p> </p><p>Matt nodded, finishing the last of his soda. “Apparently not. But we’ve got bigger things to worry about.”</p><p> </p><p>“Rescuing Elisa,” I nodded. “But if we can’t escape this conversation when we go to the clock tower…”</p><p> </p><p>Matt tapped his empty soda bottle on the table. “You know what? I forgot, I’ve got another errand to run. You two okay to stay here for another hour?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, sure.” I looked at him suspiciously as he stood up and straightened his jacket. “Maybe we’ll come up with a strategy to talk to Goliath while you’re gone?”</p><p> </p><p>“Gee, that sounds like a great idea, Melissa! Good thinking!” Matt said with a smile. “I’ll be back in an hour.”</p><p> </p><p>We sat at the kitchen table, listening to Matt’s footsteps until he got in the elevator. </p><p> </p><p>A thousand thoughts raced through my mind, none of them good. It must have shown on my face, because Brooklyn leaned forward and took my hands into his. “It’s going to be okay, Melissa.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know. But...what are we going to do if Goliath won’t let us see each other?”</p><p> </p><p>“That won’t happen.”</p><p> </p><p>“But <em> what if it does </em>?” </p><p> </p><p>“<em> Then I’ll leave </em>!”</p><p> </p><p>I squeezed his hands. “Brooklyn, we’ve only known each other for a few days. Goliath and the others, they’re your clan, <em> your family </em>. You can’t just leave them.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes I could. <em> For you </em>.” He shifted out of his chair to kneel in front of me, gently tilting my chin with one of his hands so I had to look at him. “I’d leave my clan for you, if that’s what it takes.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s not what <em> I </em> want! I don’t want to lose you, and I don’t want you to lose your family.” Tears started to well up in my eyes.</p><p> </p><p>He looked up at me, fear in his eyes. “Melissa, what are you saying?”</p><p> </p><p>I leaned down and softly kissed him, then leaned my forehead against his. “I’m saying that we’re going to need one <em> hell </em> of a strategy to convince Goliath to let us be together.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Jalape</em><em>ñ</em><em>a </em> , don’t <em> scare me </em>like that!”</p><p> </p><p>“‘Jalapeña?’ Do you mean jalapeño?”</p><p> </p><p>“No, it’s just a saying from the clock tower.” He smiled up at me. “Hey, we did it!”</p><p> </p><p>“What?”</p><p> </p><p>“We kissed!” He raised an eyebrow. “Guess the lesson paid off.” He leaned up to kiss me, and he was right.</p><p> </p><p>We stared at one another for a moment, smiling.</p><p> </p><p>“Wait, I almost forgot!” Brooklyn reached into his jacket, pulling a small box from the inner pocket. “This is for you.”</p><p> </p><p>I took the small velvet box from him and looked at it. “‘MLSA?’”</p><p> </p><p>“For ‘Melissa.’ We all got rings, and you get one too!”</p><p> </p><p>I hesitated. “I’m already a human...is this going to turn me into a gargoyle?”</p><p> </p><p>“Only one way to find out.”</p><p> </p><p>I opened the box and saw a dark metal ring with a single diamond set into the band, a spiked leaf pattern around the rest of the metal. “It kind of looks like yours.”</p><p> </p><p>“Cool, right?”</p><p> </p><p>I tried it on several fingers until I found the one it fit: the ring finger of my left hand. We held our breath, waiting.</p><p> </p><p>Nothing happened.</p><p> </p><p>"I guess it's just a ring." I held it up, looking at it in the sun. “I like it. Wait, which finger is yours on?”</p><p> </p><p>He held his hand up. “Looks like it’s the same one. A ring on this finger means you’re married, right?”</p><p> </p><p>“Often, yes. Maybe this is part of our cover?”</p><p> </p><p>“Here’s hoping.” He smiled, leaning up to kiss me again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0034"><h2>34. Thirty Four</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Melissa and Brooklyn decide on their last resort, and Melissa reunites with some old friends.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>We discussed and refined our strategy for convincing Goliath until Matt returned to the apartment.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m back! Are you guys-?”</p><p> </p><p>I groaned. “Yes, Matt, we’re <em> decent </em> .” I looked at Brooklyn. “I am <em> not </em> going to enjoy all the jokes and innuendos.”</p><p> </p><p>“You won’t?” Brooklyn smirked. “I think it’s kinda funny. Plus, it’s cute when you blush.” </p><p> </p><p>I rolled my eyes. “<em> Wonderful </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“So, did you guys figure out how to deal with Goliath?” Matt asked as he entered the kitchen.</p><p> </p><p>“We think so,” Brooklyn said, leaning his elbows on the kitchen table. “We’ve got a couple of options, and one last resort.”</p><p> </p><p>“What’s the last resort?”</p><p> </p><p>I held up my hand, showing him the ring. “If we can’t convince him otherwise, we’ll say we got married.”</p><p> </p><p>“And you think <em> that’s </em> going to change Goliath’s mind?!”</p><p> </p><p>Brooklyn sighed. “Maybe. He’s told Elisa before that he respects the laws around here, even if he doesn’t always operate within them. So, we figured that if we said our relationship was sanctioned by an official government contract…”</p><p> </p><p>“...He’d be less likely to say your relationship is ‘wrong.’” Matt finished. Brooklyn nodded.</p><p> </p><p>“He could still say it’s wrong by <em> gargoyle </em> standards,” I added. “But we hoped having the law on our side would help. If we need it.”</p><p> </p><p>“And you guys are just <em> saying </em> you got married, right? Or did you find an off-duty judge who didn’t need to see any i.d.?”</p><p> </p><p>Brooklyn smirked. “Wouldn’t <em> you </em> like to know?”</p><p> </p><p>I rolled my eyes again. “We’re just <em> saying </em> it, <em> if </em> we need to.”</p><p> </p><p>“It's a good thing that I’m good at keeping secrets. So, shall we head to the clock tower?”</p><p> </p><p>Brooklyn stood and offered me his hand. “Ready?”</p><p> </p><p>I placed my hand in his, interlacing our fingers. “Ready.”</p><p> </p><p>Matt and Brooklyn talked about bands and music the whole car ride to the Civic Center. I listened to them and watched the city pass by. It was a blissfully normal moment, but as we neared the Civic Center I got more and more worried. I <em> knew </em> that no matter what happened with the conversation in the clock tower, we should all be focusing on Elisa. I knew that rescuing Elisa was more important than whatever Goliath was going to say about Brooklyn and I.</p><p> </p><p>But knowing that and <em> feeling </em> that were two different things.</p><p> </p><p>Matt parked in his spot in the Civic Center’s parking garage and led us up the stairs, arguing with Brooklyn about whether or not Grunge was a subgenre of Punk. He felt confident that no one <em> inside </em> the Civic Center would be one of the Four Horsemen, and we were entering the building after most people had left and the other offices closed down. The likelihood of anyone seeing me, especially anyone who already knew me, was low.</p><p> </p><p>We stopped on the floor of the Civic Center that housed the 23rd Precinct for Matt to pick up some final items before we went to the clock tower. Brooklyn and I got off on the floor as well, preferring to wait for Matt instead of facing Goliath without him.</p><p> </p><p>We stood to the side, Brooklyn continuing his discussion of music genres while Matt was in the precinct.</p><p> </p><p>“Grunge <em> can’t </em> be the same as Punk, they’ve got totally different styles, they’ve got different <em> messages </em>. I can’t believe he thinks they’re the same!”</p><p> </p><p>I smiled at his passion. For being confined to a clock tower, he was surprisingly knowledgeable about music.</p><p> </p><p>“So, The Clash is a Grunge group, right?” I tried to hide my smile, enjoying egging him on.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> What?! </em> Are you <em> kidding </em> me? <em> NO. </em> They-”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Melissa?! </em>”</p><p> </p><p>We both turned to see two people coming up the stairs to the 23rd Precinct.</p><p> </p><p>Clara and Jack.</p><p> </p><p>“Who are they?” Brooklyn whispered to me, concerned.</p><p> </p><p>“They’re my friends.” I glanced at him quickly. “The friends who think that I permanently moved to New Jersey yesterday.”</p><p> </p><p>“This can’t be good. What should we do?”</p><p> </p><p>Clara and Jack walked up to us before I could answer.</p><p> </p><p>“Melissa, what are you doing here?” Clara looked confused and relieved to see me.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> And </em> who is <em> this </em>?” Jack asked, eyebrows raised and his arms crossed.</p><p> </p><p>“Jack! Clara! What are you two doing here?” I tried to sound casual, as if nothing was out of the ordinary, and knew that I was failing.</p><p> </p><p>“I wanted to check on Fatimah’s case, now that Detective Bluestone was working on it again, and Jack decided to come with me.” Clara narrowed her eyes, evaluating my reaction. “But you didn’t answer my question: what are <em> you </em> doing here, and not in New Jersey?”</p><p> </p><p>“I, uh, needed some time to finish packing. I’m leaving in the morning.”</p><p> </p><p>“And you’re in the Civic Center, outside of the 23rd Precinct, because…?” Clara’s gaze grew sharper.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m checking in on the case too.” It was true enough. “Before I leave.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, yeah, that’s great, but <em> who is this </em> ?” Jack gestured to Brooklyn. “I’m guessing that he’s <em> not </em> one of the nurses helping you with your great aunt and uncle in New Jersey?”</p><p> </p><p>“N-no, this is-”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m Brooklyn.” He held his hand out to Jack. “Nice to meet you.”</p><p> </p><p>Jack looked between Brooklyn and I, then down to Brooklyn’s hand. He shook it cautiously. “<em> Brooklyn </em>, huh? Is that a nickname, a stage name?”</p><p> </p><p>“Nah, it’s just my name, but I <em> did </em> get to pick it.” He held his hand out to Clara. “It’s nice to meet you too, Clara. Melissa’s told me a little about you both.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s interesting,” Clara said lightly, looking over at me as she shook Brooklyn’s hand, “because she’s never once mentioned <em> you </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“Now <em> why </em> would Melissa, our <em> dear, sweet </em> Melissa, fail to mention a guy with a leather jacket, long <em> white </em> hair, and the same name as a New York borough?” Jack put his hands on his hips, looking over Brooklyn.</p><p> </p><p>“This is one of the friends I made a few nights ago. Before Detective Maza went missing.” I prayed Clara and Jack would accept the explanation and stop asking more questions.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh. The mysterious new friends that you only visit at night?” Jack stood back, considering. He nodded to Brooklyn. “What do you do?”</p><p> </p><p>“What do you mean?” Brooklyn hesitated.</p><p> </p><p>“What’s your job? The one that means that Melissa has to stay up late to get to see her <em>new</em> <em>friends</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>“I can answer that,” Matt called out, walking towards us from the precinct’s doorway. “Jack, Clara, good to see you again. My associate, Brooklyn, is part of the 23rd Precinct.”</p><p> </p><p>Clara looked uncertainly between Brooklyn and Matt. “He doesn’t exactly look like a police officer, Detective Bluestone.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m undercover!” Brooklyn interrupted before Matt could respond, a gleam in his eye. “In the Punk scene.”</p><p> </p><p>Matt cleared his throat. “Yes, ‘Brooklyn’ is one of our <em> undercover </em> officers, although he’s not very good at keeping his cover <em> a secret </em>.” He leaned over to Clara and said in a mock-whisper, “He’s still in training, but he’ll get there somday.” Brooklyn glared at Matt, making both Jack and Clara chuckle.</p><p> </p><p>Matt turned to Jack and Clara. “It’s good to see you both again, but I need to speak to Melissa and Brooklyn alone.”</p><p> </p><p>“Does it have to do with the case? The disappearances?” Clara’s expression returned to worry, and she seemed exhausted.</p><p> </p><p>Matt lowered his voice and leaned towards Jack and Clara. “Yes. Melissa is ‘going to New Jersey,’ and Brooklyn is escorting her for her safety.” The way he said it implied that ‘New Jersey’ was a coded meaning for ‘Witness Protection.’</p><p> </p><p>Jack and Clara nodded, looking back to me.</p><p> </p><p>“Well,” Clara stepped towards me, taking one of my hands in both of hers. “I’m glad we got to see you before you left for New Jersey.” She looked at me sadly, and my heart twisted at the fact that we were <em> lying </em> to her. For a good reason. For a reason she would <em> understand </em> . But it was still <em> lying </em>.</p><p> </p><p>I could feel tears welling up at the corners of my eyes. “Me too, Clara.” I reached my other hand out to Jack, who took it. “I hope I get to see both of you again soon.”</p><p> </p><p>Matt put his hand on my shoulder. “Melissa, Brooklyn, we should go. Clara, I can call on you and Jack at the library tomorrow to update you, if that works?” They nodded and turned to go back towards the stairs. I waved at them as Matt guided my back towards the elevator.</p><p> </p><p>We were quiet the rest of the way to the clock tower. Brooklyn held my hand tightly, and I leaned my head on his shoulder. Matt stood in front of the elevator doors, giving us as much privacy as an elevator ride up a few floors could afford.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>On top of everything else I had been through in the last 24 hours, I had just lied to two people who were worried about me, keeping them in the dark. </span>
  <em>
    <span>And</span>
  </em>
  <span> I was on my way to what might be a knockout, drag-down fight over whether or not tradition would try to stop me from seeing the person I cared for. I squeezed Brooklyn’s hand even tighter.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>We made it to the hatch in the janitor’s closet. Before pulling down the ladder-stairs, Matt turned to the two of us.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you two ready to face everyone? Remember, we’ve still got to get to Xanatos’ place to finalize the plans for rescuing Elisa.” Matt reached up for the hatch. “Let me go up first, give me a minute then come up. And...maybe Melissa should come up first.”</p><p> </p><p>We nodded, squeezing each other’s hands. As Matt went up the ladder steps, Brooklyn gathered me in his arms.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s going to be okay,” he said quietly, his forehead against mine. “No matter what happens up there, it’s going to be okay.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know,” I whispered back.</p><p> </p><p>With a deep breath, I pulled away from him and began to climb up to the clock tower, unsure of what was waiting for us.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0035"><h2>35. Thirty Five (Another Author Interlude)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>My fancy way of saying "HEY I WANT TO EXPLAIN SOMETHING!"</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is a clarification on the asterisk system I use for different chapters!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hello everyone! Thank you for reading my humble fic so far, it’s been a lot of fun to write and I’m so happy to share it with you!</p><p> </p><p>I wanted to talk a little more about the chapters with asterisks, which are these things -&gt; *****</p><p> </p><p>In general, they indicate when a chapter is going to have <b> <em>sexy stuff</em> </b> in it. </p><p> </p><p>Why? So you can avoid them - or return to them - as much as you like. Whichever you prefer!</p><p> </p><p>I’ve tried my best to make sure that no major plot points end up in those chapters, and any major plot points that <em> do </em> end up in those chapters will be noted in the TOP notes, then get summarized in the END notes (so there are no accidental spoilers!).</p><p> </p><p>“Wait a second, Breaker!” You may be saying. “Why are you doing an entire interlude about the asterisks? You mentioned the system in other chapters!”</p><p> </p><p>And you’re right! I <em> have </em> mentioned it in a couple of chapters. But then I ran into a dilemma: Should I put an asterisk on chapters where kissing is involved?</p><p> </p><p>Which <em> then </em> made me ask: what is the difference [to <b> <em>me</em> </b> , while writing this story] between <em> kissing </em> and <em> making out </em>?</p><p> </p><p>So here’s the decision: “kissing” will <em> not </em> get an asterisk, but “making out” <em> will </em>.</p><p> </p><ul>
<li>
<em>KISSING</em>: lip-to-lip contact <em>WITHOUT tongue</em>. I usually write about kisses for emotional scenes, and don’t really go into the details.</li>
</ul><p> </p><ul>
<li>
<em>MAKING OUT:</em> lip-to-lip contact <em>WITH tongue</em>. I usually write about making out for sexy scenes, and get really into the details.</li>
</ul><p> </p><p>“But <em> Breaker! </em>” You might still be saying. “WHY is there a WHOLE INTERLUDE about this?!”</p><p> </p><p>To make sure that <b>I</b> stay consistent, and put to rest any confusion about why some chapters are <em> not </em> marked with an asterisk even though they involve lip-to-lip contact.</p><p> </p><p>That’s it! See you in the next chapter! (Which involves kissing in it. Which is literally the whole reason why I wrote this entire interlude)</p><p> </p><p>~Breaker</p><p>(P.S. I went through what I've got down so far and realized that I've written the phrase for where the gargoyles live as both "clock tower" and "clocktower." I use "clock tower" a lot more, and even though it bothers me A LOT, I'm also too lazy to go through and change the entries with "clocktower." Just so that <em>you're</em> aware that <em>I'm</em> aware of it. And annoyed by it. UGH.)</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0036"><h2>36. Thirty Six</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>What will happen when Goliath and Brooklyn finally face off?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Before I could make it all the way up the ladder-steps, a blur of gray bounded towards me. I yelped in surprise as the gray blur began licking my face and whining. I was stuck on the ladder-steps being lovingly lick-attacked by a tall, gray dog.</p><p> </p><p>“Down, Bronx! At least let the lass make it into the room!” I heard Hudson call out.</p><p> </p><p>The dog - Bronx - backed up just enough for me to climb up into the clock tower’s main room, then immediately leaned against my leg and nosed at my hand. I kneeled down and scratched the scruffy dog behind his floppy ears as he resumed licking my face.</p><p> </p><p>“Wow, Bronx, I didn’t know you’d get transformed too! You look so <em> different </em> ! But you’re still very handsome, yes you are, <em> yes you are </em>!” I dropped into the singsongy voice that I reserved for cute, furry animals, forgetting for a moment that his true forms was of a powerful gargoyle-hound. Luckily, Bronx seemed to like it, wagging his new long, shaggy tail.</p><p> </p><p>A large man, bearded, strode over to me and offered me his hand. “Good to see ye’ lass!”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Hudson </em>?” I took his hand, letting him help me up. I studied his human features for a moment. He had already been more humanoid than Brooklyn was, his features easily translating to a familiar face shape. It almost seemed like this was the human underneath an impressive movie-magic gargoyle costume. “Your human form suits you! You know, if you grew a dark moustache, you could probably pass for one of Sean Connery’s relatives.”</p><p> </p><p>He laughed and patted me on the shoulder. “Flattery will get you everywhere, lass.”</p><p> </p><p>“What about me, Melissa?” A man with thick blonde eyebrows and a tuft of fluffy blonde hair came up next to Hudson, speaking with Broadway’s voice.</p><p> </p><p>“Broadway, blonde looks good on you!” His human form could have easily intimidated anyone with his broad face and thick arms. He could have looked like a bouncer or a bodyguard, if it wasn’t for the goofy smile radiating off of his face.</p><p> </p><p>A smaller, slimmer man with short brown hair walked up beside Broadway with an eager smile.</p><p> </p><p>“Lexington! What’s it like not to have the webbing?” The other gargoyles could wrap their wings around themselves like cloaks, effectively ‘putting them away,’ but Lexington had no such luxury in his gargoyle form. The webbing that served as his wings was always out, noticeable even when he had his arms lowered.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s kind of weird. I can reach around my ribs and nothing’s stopping me! Not that I’ve had to reach around my ribs that much, but I can do it now!” He looked at my hand, pointing at my ring. “I’m guessing that <em> didn’t </em> turn you into a gargoyle?”</p><p> </p><p>I held it up to look at it. “No, nothing happened when I put it on. I don’t know why I got a ring, but Brooklyn and I thought it might have something to do with the plan for invading the party.”</p><p> </p><p>“And speaking of <em> Brooklyn </em>, where is he?” A deep voice, cold as ice, asked from behind me.</p><p> </p><p>The hairs on the back of my neck prickled and I felt shaky. A difficult conversation didn’t have to be something terrifying, but I would be the first to admit that I’d rather avoid conflict than face it. Conflict conversations were unpredictable, they were usually emotional, and more often than not, they ended badly. Despite all of the advice given to children to ‘be mature’ when they need to confront someone, when it comes to difficult conversations, adults rarely followed the same advice.</p><p> </p><p>I turned around to see a tall man, darker complexioned than the others, with long, straight black hair. His square jaw was clenched, the scowl on his face pulling his features into a mask of anger.</p><p> </p><p>Goliath.</p><p> </p><p>Before I could answer him, a voice from near the hatch called out. “I’m right here.”</p><p> </p><p>Goliath turned, watching Brooklyn emerge from the hatch into the clock tower. They stared at each other, as if they were boxers waiting for the bell to signal the start of their match. I glanced around to see that Matt was standing off to the side, observing Goliath and Brooklyn carefully. Broadway gently drew me backwards, so that I stood behind him, Hudson, and Lexington. Bronx came to lean against my leg, putting himself slightly in front of me as well.</p><p> </p><p>I could see Brooklyn and Goliath tense their shoulders and curl their hands into fists. Brooklyn’s scowl almost matched Goliath’s in anger. We should have known that this conversation was going to be anything but calm.</p><p> </p><p>They were each waiting for the other to make the first move. The air in the clock tower was filled with tension and energy, like the earth waiting for lightning to strike.</p><p> </p><p>And that lightning <em> would </em> strike, but where?</p><p> </p><p>It was Brooklyn who made the first move. He stood back, lowering his shoulders and relaxing his fists. He appeared to be dropping his guard. But from the tensing of the muscles in his arms, in his neck, one thing was clear: he <em> wasn’t </em> dropping his guard. He was taunting Goliath.</p><p> </p><p>“I heard you wanted to talk to me. Well, here I am. What’s on your mind, <em> Goliath </em>?” His forcibly casual tone was lightly tinted with sarcasm, almost sounding normal. It barely hid the anger underneath his words.</p><p> </p><p>Goliath’s scowl depened. Brooklyn’s taunting was not lost on him.</p><p> </p><p>“Brooklyn. You have <em> endangered </em> the clan’s safety, you have <em> jeopardized </em> our <em> alliance </em> with the humans, and you have <em> violated the clan’s traditions </em> . As the clan leader, I <em> cannot </em> let this stand.” Goliath’s voice was stern and cold, his anger as sharp as a razor’s edge, slicing with each word. “Your brethren have requested that I give you the opportunity to <em> explain </em> your actions. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”</p><p> </p><p>Brooklyn narrowed his eyes at Goliath. “‘<em> Explain myself </em> ?’ Are you <em> serious </em> ? You sound like a nest-mother who’s caught a hatchling sneaking back into the castle after curfew. I’m not a <em> hatchling </em> , Goliath. I don’t have to ‘ <em> explain myself </em>’ to you.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re right, Brooklyn.” For a moment, it felt like the tension was beginning to evaporate. Was it this easy to change Goliath’s mind?</p><p> </p><p>In two strides he was looming over Brooklyn, staring down at him. “I am <em>not</em> your nest-mother. I am your <em> clan leader </em> .” He said it softly to Brooklyn, but it filled the room like a roar. “I <em> will </em> do what is best <em> for the clan </em> . I will give you <em> one more </em> opportunity. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”</p><p> </p><p>Brooklyn looked up at Goliath. “Fine. I <em> do </em> have something to say for myself.”</p><p> </p><p>This was it, the time he could use the strategies we had come up with. He could tell Goliath that a tradition-by-omission should be questioned and agreed-on by the entire clan. He could argue that they were living one thousand years <em> after </em> the founding of their traditions, and that most traditions would have evolved over the time that was stolen from them. He could remind Goliath that this didn’t have to be an issue at all, that our relationship wouldn’t take Brooklyn away from the clan, or force them to accept me as a part of it. I could be on the outside if it meant still seeing Brooklyn without the weight of venomous disapproval hanging over us.</p><p> </p><p>He could have said <em> anything </em>.</p><p> </p><p>Instead, Brooklyn slammed his fist into Goliath’s jaw.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> No </em>.” It came as a whisper through my lips, like it was escaping on a breath forced out of my lungs.</p><p> </p><p>Goliath stumbled back, more from surprise than from the blow. He found his footing and squared his shoulders, dropping into a fighting stance. Brooklyn kicked the hatch door closed and did the same.</p><p> </p><p>Goliath rushed forward, arms outstretched to tackle Brooklyn to the ground. Instead, Brooklyn dodged to the side, out of Goliath’s reach, pushing him with his foot as he rushed past to make him stumble again.</p><p> </p><p>Brooklyn took his stance again, a prideful smirk twisting his face. “You might be the clan leader, Goliath. But I’m still <em> faster than you </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Goliath charged again, yelling angrily. Brooklyn tried to dodge again, but Goliath changed directions at the last minute and caught him around his torso, lifting him off of his feet and knocking the wind out of him. He kept running, slamming both of them into one of the stone walls supporting the stairs to the balcony. Brooklyn grunted in pain, whatever air left in his lungs forced out again.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> No </em>!” I tried to say it louder, but I couldn’t breathe. Instead, it was another whisper. I tried to push forward, but Bronx leaned against me heavily, growling, holding me back.</p><p> </p><p>“Stay back, lass,” Hudson warned. “Don’t try to get between them.”</p><p> </p><p>While Brooklyn was still out of breath, Goliath grabbed him by his jacket lapels, holding him against the wall. He held onto Brooklyn with one hand while the other one drew back in a fist, ready to land a blow. Goliath threw his fist forward, aiming for Brooklyn’s nose. Brooklyn wrenched his head to the side, Goliath’s fist slamming into the wall a hair’s breadth away from Brooklyn’s face.</p><p> </p><p>Goliath growled with the pain, as close to a gargoyle’s growl as he could manage in human form. His grip on Brooklyn loosened slightly, enough for Brooklyn to push Goliath away from him and let him dash to the side so his back was no longer against the stone wall.</p><p> </p><p>Goliath seemed to lose his footing, dropping to one knee and grasping his fist. But rather than pause in a moment of pain, Goliath’s hand darted out and grabbed Brooklyn’s ankle, pulling his feet out from under him and sending him crashing to the floor. Goliath shot forward, grabbing Brooklyn’s shirt to pin him to the floor and raising his fist again. He landed a heavy, powerful blow, fueled by anger, on Brooklyn’s jaw.</p><p> </p><p>Then he raised his fist again, slamming it into Brooklyn’s face once more.</p><p> </p><p>Goliath raised his fist a third time.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> STOP IT </em>!” I screamed, pushing past the others, trying to get to him, but Broadway grabbed me. I clawed at his arms, trying to get free, but he strengthened his grip.</p><p> </p><p>“Melissa, <em> don’t </em>!” I kept clawing at Broadway, trying to elbow him in the stomach, trying to do anything to get him to let me go, but he just grunted and held me even tighter. “You’ll just get hurt!” He sounded scared.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> DO IT </em>.” Brooklyn’s voice was thick, blood from tooth-made cuts in his mouth starting to stain his lips.</p><p> </p><p>Goliath's face twisted grotesquely, and he raised his fist even higher.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Do. It. </em> ” He said again, through clenched teeth, a trickle of red gathering at the corner of his mouth. “<em>Punch me</em>! Punch me as many times as you need to. Let <em> all </em> your anger out, Goliath. All your anger <em> at YOURSELF </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Goliath hesitated. He stared at Brooklyn, anger warring with confusion.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re not angry <em> at me </em>, Goliath. You’re angry with yourself.” Brooklyn turned his head, spitting blood out of his mouth, never taking his eyes off Goliath. “You’re angry with yourself...for not being able to protect Elisa.”</p><p> </p><p>Goliath slowly lowered his hand, like all the rage and strength had left him.</p><p> </p><p>I stopped struggling against Broadway’s grasp, eyes locked on Goliath and Brooklyn. This wasn’t something that had come up when we were strategizing how to talk with Goliath. The others exchanged glances, but didn’t seem surprised.</p><p> </p><p>“You <em> always </em> watch over Elisa, Goliath. You shadow her when you can, or send one of us to watch her. I can count on one hand - one <em> gargoyle </em> hand - the number of nights you haven’t tried to protect her <em> somehow </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Goliath released Brooklyn. Brooklyn dragged himself away from Goliath a bit, pushing up to his elbows.</p><p> </p><p>“Elisa was taken. I was supposed to <em> protect her </em> . I <em>should</em> <em>have</em> protected her.” Goliath looked utterly lost, miserable, staring at the ground in front of his knees.</p><p> </p><p>Brooklyn slowly sat up, wincing, and placed a hand on Goliath’s shoulder. “Goliath.” He waited for Goliath to look up at him. “Elisa <em> was </em> taken, but she was taken <em> while we were in the stone sleep </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“How do you know?!” Goliath’s voice was full of despair and accusation.</p><p> </p><p>“Because if they had tried to take her when we were awake, <em>you would have stopped them </em>. The only thing you can't stop is the sunrise. It wasn’t your fault, Goliath.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then whose fault <em> is it </em>?!”</p><p> </p><p>Brooklyn’s face hardened. “The Four Horsemen. Those bastards may have gotten to Elisa before we could, but they don’t know that she has <em> gargoyles </em> on her side.” </p><p><br/>
Brooklyn stood and offered his hand to Goliath. “We’re going to get her <em> back </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Goliath looked up at him. Then he reached up and took Brooklyn’s hand, allowing himself to be pulled up. Once he was on his feet, he and Brooklyn grasped each other’s forearms, nodding to each other. The fight was over.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you, Brooklyn. I wish I had realized the true source of my anger earlier.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s what a second-in-command is for,” Brooklyn said, smiling. He felt his jaw, wincing. “Although I wish I had gotten you to realize it <em> before </em> you socked me the second time. I only punched you <em> once </em>!”</p><p> </p><p>“Seems like you get a free shot at him to save for later.” Matt walked up to Goliath and Brooklyn, patting both of them on the back. “‘Later’ being the key word! We need to head over to Xanatos’ place and finalize the plans for rescuing Elisa. Maybe take a minute to get yourselves cleaned up…”</p><p> </p><p>Brooklyn wiped at his mouth with his thumb, looking at the blood with a grimace and nodded.</p><p> </p><p>“Glad <em> that’s </em>over with!” Lexington sighed with relief, wiping away the beads of sweat that had formed on his brow.</p><p> </p><p>Broadway gently released me, helping me stay on my feet. “You okay, Melissa?”</p><p> </p><p>“I-I don’t know.” I was shaky again, the rest of my fear and panic slowly ebbing away.</p><p> </p><p>Broadway looked at me, seeing that I was upset. “Hey, don’t worry! No matter how ferocious they got, we wouldn’t have let them <em> actually </em> kill each other!” He grinned at his own joke, and I smiled a little, feeling better.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. Thanks for stopping me, Broadway. Who knows what would have happened if any of us had tried to pull them apart?”</p><p> </p><p>“I think it’s safe to approach now, if ye’ want,” Hudson said with a smile.</p><p> </p><p>Goliath and Matt stood talking together, Goliath absently massaging the knuckles of the hand he had driven into Brooklyn’s face and a stone wall.</p><p> </p><p>Brooklyn had gone over to the kitchenette, leaning his head under the faucet to rinse out the blood out of his mouth. He turned off the faucet and grabbed a kitchen towel, wiping the last of the pinkish water off his face. He smiled at me as I walked up the few steps leading to the kitchenette.</p><p> </p><p>“Pretty impressive, right?” He raised an eyebrow, very proud of himself.</p><p> </p><p>“Which thing should I be impressed by, your insight into Goliath’s anger, or your right hook?”</p><p> </p><p>“Both?” His smile dimmed. “What’s wrong?”</p><p> </p><p>I threw my arms around him, hugging him tightly. “I was <em> so scared </em>.” I buried my face in his shoulder, trying not to cry. “You could have gotten really hurt!”</p><p> </p><p>He wrapped his arms around me. “I’m sorry.” I heard a smile in his voice.</p><p> </p><p>“What does that ‘I’m sorry’ mean?”</p><p> </p><p>He pulled back so he could look at me. “It means, ‘I didn’t mean to scare you, but I knew you’d try to talk me out of it so I couldn’t tell you, and that I’m <em> very </em> flattered that you were so worried about me.’” His smile was wide, teasingly sweet.</p><p> </p><p>I leaned forward and kissed him, pulling back when I heard him say “ouch,” the sound muffled between our lips.</p><p> </p><p>“A little tender there, Muhammad Ali?” I gently tapped his jaw with a knuckle, making him wince a little.</p><p> </p><p>“Remind me to <em> never </em> take up boxing, my good looks can’t take it!”</p><p> </p><p>I looked up at him. “When did you figure it out?”</p><p> </p><p>He leaned towards me, smiling softly. “I had some time to think while I was waiting at the safehouse for you, and I asked myself, ‘How would <em> I </em> feel if <em> you </em> were the one who was kidnapped?’ And, I thought about how much I care for you, and how angry I would be if someone took you.” He leaned his forehead against mine. “And how angry I would be <em> at myself </em> for ever letting someone get away with taking you, even for one second.”</p><p> </p><p>I leaned in and pressed my lips to his as lightly as I could. As I pulled back, time seemed to stand still. I felt my heart beating, so full it could have burst from my chest. I felt Brooklyn’s arms around me. His embrace, engulfing me far beyond his physical reach, felt safe, and comforting, and reassuring. It felt like being home.</p><p> </p><p>“Brooklyn…”</p><p> </p><p>“Hmm?”</p><p> </p><p>“Brooklyn, I - “</p><p> </p><p>“Time to go, everyone!” Matt stood by the hatch, beckoning to the room. “We’ve got to meet with Xanatos and plan Elisa’s rescue, let’s get a move on!”</p><p> </p><p>The others started moving towards the hatch, but Brooklyn held on to me.</p><p> </p><p>“What were you going to say?” His eyes searched mine, curious.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh. Well…” I felt my smile grow wider and wider.</p><p> </p><p>Why not now?</p><p> </p><p>Why not here?</p><p> </p><p>Why wait?</p><p> </p><p>“I love you, Brooklyn.”</p><p> </p><p>He was speechless for a moment, so still that he might have forgotten to breathe.</p><p> </p><p>“Melissa!” He sounded shocked, and surprised, and absolutely elated. “<em> I love you too </em>!”</p><p> </p><p>Then he swept me up in his arms, kissing me over and over, mumbling “ouch!” each time. I giggled and pushed him back. “Alright, don’t hurt yourself!”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t care, it’s worth it,” he said before pressing one more kiss to my lips with a final “ouch!”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, <em> lovebirds </em> , let’s <em> GO </em>!” Broadway shouted from near the hatch, smiling.</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry, we’re right behind you!” I waved them on, watching them start down the ladder-stairs. The last person to start down the ladder-stairs was Goliath. Before he turned to leave, I saw a look cross over his face.</p><p> </p><p>Regret.</p><p> </p><p>Walking hand-in-hand with Brooklyn towards the hatch, I made a promise to myself: I would do whatever it took to give them a chance to be together, like Brooklyn and I.</p><p> </p><p>The first step of keeping that promise was to rescue Elisa.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0037"><h2>37. Thirty Seven</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Making plans, plus a makeover montage!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>We left the janitor’s closet in shifts, taking the stairs to various floors, then waiting for the elevator to meet up again down in the parking garage.</p><p> </p><p>“It might seem unnecessary,” Matt said once we were all gathered in the parking garage, “but trying to get this large of a group out of a building that they were never seen entering is a little difficult to coordinate.”</p><p> </p><p>The underground parking garage was nearly deserted. There were only two other cars besides Matt’s in the garage. As we approached his car, one of the other car’s doors opened and a blonde man in glasses stepped out.</p><p> </p><p>Owen Burnett, Xanatos’ servant.</p><p> </p><p>He adjusted his glasses and looked over the group. “You’re late.”</p><p> </p><p>“We had some business to take care of,” Matt replied. “I appreciate Xanatos sending some cars our way, it would have been hard to fit all of us in my car.”</p><p> </p><p>Owen merely nodded. We separated into the various cars, with Brooklyn and I in the third car together. The driver asked us to buckle our seatbelts but otherwise didn’t acknowledge us, seeming to prefer silence, giving Brooklyn and I a chance to talk.</p><p> </p><p>Our hands rested on the seat between us, intertwined. I looked over at him, watching him as he watched the city pass by. </p><p> </p><p>“Is it weird, seeing the city from this angle?” He turned and smiled at me, and I smiled back.</p><p> </p><p>“A little.” From his smile, I could see that his cheek was puffy, swollen from his fight with Goliath. From his voice, I could hear that he was tired.</p><p> </p><p>I squeezed his hand. “Hey, are you okay?”</p><p> </p><p>He paused.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, I’m just tired. Which is kind of a new experience for me. I mean, I’ve been tired before, after a battle or a long night of flying, but this feels different.”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe you’re sleepy?”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe. But it’s different from when we go into stone sleep, too. I’m tired just before sunup, but this feels...I dunno how to describe it. It’s deeper, somehow.”</p><p> </p><p>We were quiet for a moment, the soft sound of a song by Ella Fitzgerald coming from the driver’s radio.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “...and I feel like I’m clinging to a cloud…I can’t understand, I get misty...” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Is it because Goliath never made a final decision about us? As far as the whole ‘tradition’ thing goes?”</p><p> </p><p>“Goliath doesn’t get to be in charge of whether we get to see each other.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know. But I think you’d still like his approval.” He nodded. “I would, too.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’d mean he respects us.” Then he shook his head. “I think what I mean is that it would mean he respects <em> me </em>, and the choice I made to be with you. I don’t always make the best choices.”</p><p> </p><p>“Like the exploding motorcycle?” I asked it delicately. Something about it felt more significant than just a funny story.</p><p> </p><p>He took a deep breath. “Yeah. That story... it’s the same story as when I got betrayed.”</p><p> </p><p>“When a girl you cared for betrayed you?” I felt a little prick of jealousy and anger. Jealousy, because there was someone who affected him so deeply, and anger, because that person had hurt him. But it was <em> his </em> story, and I refused to let <em> my </em> jealousy be a permanent part of it. My jealousy was <em> my </em> responsibility, not his.</p><p> </p><p>Another snippet of the jazz song drifted from the radio. “<em> ...it’s just what I want you to do…don’t you notice how hopelessly I’m lost... </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“Remember when I mentioned that, back in Scotland, one of our own betrayed us?”</p><p> </p><p>That took me aback. “Um, yes, from our history lesson, why?”</p><p> </p><p>“Same person. And she’s betrayed us over, and over, and <em> over </em> again.” Anger started to creep into his voice. “I didn’t know just how deep her betrayal went at that point. We had barely been awake for a week, trying to get used to New York, to being in a city with mostly hu-” He glanced up at the driver. “-huge groups of people.”</p><p> </p><p>“She saved me from getting killed by a mob of bikers,” he continued. “Then she wanted me to join her side. I felt like I owed it to her to listen to what she had to say, and she convinced me that all of humanity was garbage.” He looked back up at the driver, then motioned to me to lean in. “She convinced me to steal a book with a spell that she used on Goliath. She told me it would make him understand what she had shown me and he’d join her side too, but it made him a mindless slave to her instead. We fixed the spell, but…” He sat back up and looked out of the car window. “It’s made me question a lot of my decisions ever since.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re Goliath’s second-in-command. He trusts you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. And he made me his second even <em> after </em> that whole mess. I’d just…”</p><p> </p><p>“...like the approval.” He nodded. “Well, let’s see: You ‘changed’ before you were finished sleeping, you just survived a fistfight with Goliath, and we’ve still got to get to Xanatos’ and hear his plan. I think it makes perfect sense for you to be exhausted right down to your bones.”</p><p> </p><p>He smiled again, smaller and dimmer than usual. “I think this,” he motioned to himself, “is part of it, too. We’ve got to ask Owen how many uses we get. I’m dying to get back into my own skin.” He returned his gaze to the city outside as we turned into another parking garage.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> ...Would I wander through this wonderland alone? Never knowing… </em>” The song, and the car ride, was almost over.</p><p> </p><p>A thought started creeping into the back of my mind, doubt spreading over me like a bottle of spilled ink. We had only known each other for a few days, but we had become deeply entangled in a short amount of time. A whirlwind connection with no indication of how long it would last or how it would end. And Brooklyn doubted his decisions. Was this…</p><p> </p><p>Brooklyn shifted to the middle seat and took my face in his hands, kissing me so deeply it took my breath away.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve <em> never </em> doubted being with you,” he whispered as he pulled back. “In fact, it might be the best decision I’ve ever made.”</p><p> </p><p>“You could tell what I was thinking?”</p><p> </p><p>He leaned back to look at me. “I know exactly what ‘doubt’ looks like. Not sure that a kiss is enough to get rid of it, but I’d be happy to try again.”</p><p> </p><p>I realized that the car wasn’t moving, and the driver’s side door was open. The others’ voices echoed in the parking garage, waiting for us.</p><p> </p><p>“Rain check? We’ve got a rescue mission to plan.”</p><p> </p><p>He smiled. “Hope it storms later tonight.”</p><p> </p><p>I giggled and opened the car door.</p><p> </p><p>- - -</p><p> </p><p>Lexington smirked as we approached the elevator where everyone waited. “Glad you could join us!”</p><p> </p><p>I groaned. “Lex, can we focus on the mission?”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know, <em> can you </em>?” I groaned louder, earning an impish grin from Lexington and a chuckle from Hudson.</p><p> </p><p>We walked into Xanatos’ office to see him pacing impatiently in front of some large glass windows looking out over the city. He turned to us and raised an eyebrow. “I was starting to think that the Four Horsemen had snatched all of you up.”</p><p> </p><p>Matt shrugged casually. “Well, we’re here now. So, what were you able to find out about tomorrow night’s party?”</p><p> </p><p>“Not much. Everyone I contacted who has been to the Four Horsemen’s parties had similar information, so it seems fairly trustworthy. But they were all very tight-lipped. What little information I was able to get cost me dearly.”</p><p> </p><p>Brooklyn glared at Xanatos. “Aren’t you filthy rich? Pretty sure you can afford whatever ‘dearly’ costs.”</p><p> </p><p>“True, but it’s the principle of the thing. I’ve paid far less for far more information.” Xanatos shook his head. “Luckily, that wasn’t the <em> only </em> thing I did today. Owen, if you would?” He gestured to a line of tan envelopes on his desk.</p><p> </p><p>As Owen passed out the envelopes, Xanatos continued. “Each of you needs an alias for the party.”</p><p> </p><p>“Aliases? Like codenames?” Broadyway asked excitedly.</p><p> </p><p>“Even better, my eager friend! These are your cover identities, complete with identification and backstories. Although we’ll need to take some photos to fully complete your id cards and passports.”</p><p> </p><p>“Passports? What do we need passports for?” Brooklyn opened his envelope, glancing inside.</p><p> </p><p>“Some of you have more <em> international </em> identities than the others. We also weren’t told what kind of identification we’ll need to bring, so better to be safe than sorry. Why don’t you take a seat and get familiar with your new selves?”</p><p> </p><p>We sat at a large table that looked like it had been moved into the office for the meeting, spreading out the contents of our envelopes. Mine had a slim leather wallet in red, a United States passport, and a sheet of paper. I looked around and saw the others had similar contents, although our wallets were all different, and a few of the others had non-United States passports.</p><p> </p><p>I looked at my sheet of paper, reading it out loud. “‘Name: Melanie Williams, Nationality: United States, Occupation: The Accountant, Dracon Family.’ I’m supposed to be an accountant? I don’t know anything about accounting. ‘Associates and Ties,’ hmm…” </p><p> </p><p>I read down the list. It seemed like quite a few of the others were keeping their first names, and that ‘Melanie’ wouldn’t know any of them except…”’Bronx: owner.’ Aw! Bronx, looks like we get to work together!” Bronx barked happily and I scratched him behind his ears. “And finally, ‘Brooklyn Sinclair: fiancé.’ So there <em> was </em> a reason why our rings matched!”</p><p> </p><p>Brooklyn looked up from his paper with a smile as bright as the sun. “<em> Knew </em> it!”</p><p> </p><p>“Did everyone get to keep their first names?” Lexington asked the table.</p><p> </p><p>I shook my head. “I’ll be going by ‘Melanie.’”</p><p> </p><p>Broadway also shook his head. “I got ‘Brody Antrim.’ I wanted something like ‘Dick Tracy,’ or ‘Theo Kojak!’ ‘<em> Brody </em> <b> <em>’</em> </b> sounds so <em> boring </em>.” He pouted.</p><p> </p><p>“That name is more interesting than it seems, Broadway.” Xanatos came to stand at the table, looking down at the paper. “Sadly, ‘Broadway’ doesn’t make a great first name for a human. We chose ‘Brody’ because it’s <em> close </em> to your name. A classic component of cover identities is to use your real first name, or one close to it, so you don’t accidentally <em> forget </em> your cover identity. ‘Antrim’ was one of the last names Billy the Kid used. Not a famous detective, but a very famous outlaw.”</p><p> </p><p>Broadway perked up. “I like detective flicks more, but Westerns are good too!”</p><p> </p><p>“Alright everyone, let me give you the big picture of who you all are. You three,” he pointed at Goliath, Lexington, and Broadway, “are with me. Goliath Valois is a very wealthy French business owner that I’m escorting to the party, Lexington Price is Monsieur Valois’ personal assistant, and Broadway is Brody Antrim, Monsieur Valois’ bodyguard.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why would you be showing an investor around a clandestine party?” I asked Xanatos. “That seems unusual.”</p><p> </p><p>Xanatos smiled ruefully. “ I’ll be trying to convince Monsieur Valois to merge his businesses with Xanatos Enterprises. And, although I’ve <em> always </em> erred on the side of legality, I’m often accused of more underhanded dealings, to the point where my presence at less reputable gatherings is...unsurprising. It wouldn’t be too much of a stretch to think that I would show a potential business partner the reach of my connections.”</p><p> </p><p>He motioned to Brooklyn and I. “Now, you two are the Dracon Family’s representatives. Brooklyn, you’re a newly hired weapons expert for Dracon, and you’ll be there to evaluate whether or not the Dracons want to get involved in whatever the Four Horsemen are dealing in. Melissa, you’ll be ‘Melanie’ to your <em> fiancé </em>, but ‘The Accountant’ to everyone else.”</p><p> </p><p>I interrupted him. “How much accounting do I need to know?”</p><p> </p><p>“None,” Xanatos smiled. “You won’t <em> actually </em> be an accountant, you’ll be there to determine how much money the Dracon family will invest in the Horsemen’s projects, should Brooklyn deem them worthy. And Bronx is your faithful guard dog that you never go anywhere without. The Accountant normally works behind the scenes, so we’ve got a little room for interpretation.”</p><p> </p><p>“And what of me?” Hudson asked.</p><p> </p><p>“You, Hudson 'Stuart,' will be working with Detective Bluestone. You’ll be with the police as they prepare for the raid. Your cover will be that you’re there with MI6, the British Intelligence Service, investigating any possible connection between the Four Horsemen to crime in England. What you’ll <em> actually </em> be doing is monitoring the situation and, if needed, transform into your gargoyle form and come in as backup.”</p><p> </p><p>“So what did you find out about the <em> party </em>, Xanatos?” Matt asked, impatient.</p><p> </p><p>“As I said, not much.” Xanatos sat in the last empty chair at the table, leaning his elbows on the table. “It’s framed as a party, but it seems to be more like an investor showcase. Each Horseman has a display area where they can show off the progress of their experiments for their current investors and entice new ones. Those who already invest will wear pins on their lapels, those who are looking to invest don’t.”</p><p> </p><p>“And how do they prevent the spread of information from those who do not wish to invest in these Horsemen?” Goliath studied Xanatos carefully. “They must use a powerful threat.”</p><p> </p><p>“I believe they collect some sort of collateral, but it’s unclear exactly what that collateral is.”</p><p> </p><p>“What else?” Lexington asked. Xanatos remained silent. “Wait, <em> that’s it </em> ? That’s <em> all </em> you found out?!”</p><p> </p><p>“Trust me, Lexington, no one is more frustrated about that than I am. Like I said, even that small amount of information cost me <em> dearly </em>.” He shot a look at Brooklyn, who rolled his eyes in return. “Other than what I’ve just told you, we’re going in blind.”</p><p> </p><p>“So what next? What do we do to prepare for tomorrow night?” I looked around the table, but everyone stayed quiet, obviously frustrated. There had to be something we could do. I looked down at the passport in front of me then over at Xanatos. “You said something about photographs?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, yes. We need to take pictures of you in your human forms to complete your identification.”</p><p> </p><p>“So, let’s start with that. It’s <em> something </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Xanatos seemed to brighten a bit. “Grand idea, Miss Campbell. I’ll have Owen bring in the stylists.”</p><p> </p><p>“Stylists?” Lexington asked, confused.</p><p> </p><p>“Of course. We’ve got to get your disguises together before we take your pictures.”</p><p> </p><p>“Looking human isn’t <em> enough </em> of a disguise? What’s wrong with how we look now?” Brooklyn raised an eyebrow.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re going to attend a highly illegal, highly fanciful ‘party’ put together by a dramatic group of mysterious figures. You have to dress better than whatever Detective Bluestone’s put you in.” He cast a critical eye over all of us. “I’m afraid that includes you, Miss Campbell. No offense.”</p><p> </p><p>“None taken,” I replied. “I’m kind of looking forward to seeing what ‘Melanie Williams’ would wear to a macabre party in the middle of the woods.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s the spirit!” Xanatos cast a handsome smile my way, and from the corner of my eye I could see Brooklyn tense. I reached over and took his hand, and he looked at me sheepishly. Xanatos turned to signal to Owen.</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry, Melissa, I -” I squeezed Brooklyn’s hand, stopping him.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re not the only one who knows what doubt looks like,” I said quietly. “I’m also looking forward to seeing what my fiancé will wear.” I winked, coaxing a grin from Brooklyn.</p><p> </p><p>We spent the next few hours being put into our disguises, taking photographs, and drinking coffee. The three stylists hired by Xanatos dug through the many clothing racks they had wheeled in, clipped and styled hair, pinned jackets and pants to tailor, and added all manner of small accessories to complete our disguises. Owen took photographs of us after the stylists had completed their handiwork against a blue backdrop hung on the wall.</p><p> </p><p>Goliath’s long dark hair had been styled into a low ponytail, similar to Xanatos’ look. He had been dressed in a dark gray suit and black tie for his photograph, and was fitted with a sapphire blue suit and rich red tie with a matching pocket square for the party. The stylist in charge of his disguise made a fuss over the cufflinks for his shirt after Goliath questioned their practicality.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not important if they’re <em> practical </em> !” The stylist, an elegant man with silver hair and wire glasses, huffed. “What’s important is that they <em> go </em> with the outfit!” He had chosen silver cufflinks embedded with blood-red garnets. “With your complexion, they really <em> should </em>be gold, but silver works better with the overall look.” Finally, Goliath was given a matching set of fine leather shoes and a belt in deep mahogany, and a woolen camel coat.</p><p> </p><p>Lexington’s photograph was taken in a white collared shirt and tie. His suit would be a deep olive green, with black shoes and a black belt. His distinguishing accessory would be a pair of eyeglasses in a vintage style with thick black frames. Rather than being the square ‘nerd’ glasses, though, they were smaller and slightly rounded.</p><p> </p><p>“P3’s in black. Think Gregory Peck in <em> To Kill a Mockingbird </em>,” said his stylist, a woman with skin the color of cafe au lait and a finger-wave bob, adjusting the olive jacket across Lexington’s slim shoulders. “Smart, respectable, but ever-so-slightly dreamy.” She turned his face with a finger, studying how the glasses fit him in different angles, then nodded, pleased. “Perfect!”</p><p> </p><p>Broadway wore a black t-shirt for his photograph, and a deep gray suit for the party. He was disappointed at the simplicity of his disguise. “You’re going undercover as a bouncer, <em> Brody </em>.” Xanatos reminded him. “You need to be able to disappear in a crowd so you can stay close to your employer. But we haven’t totally left you out.” </p><p> </p><p>Broadway looked closely at the suit, realizing that there were fine black pinstripes in the suit’s fabric. A stylist handed Broadway a matching fedora and a black satin tie. “Sometimes, it’s all about the details,” the stylist confided. The stylist was petite with shaggy black hair and angular features. They wore slim, dark jeans with combat boots, a red mock-turtleneck, and a deep tan and brown Harrington jacket that fell to just above their hips.</p><p> </p><p>Goliath’s stylist, Thomas, moved on to Hudson, dressing him in a medium gray suit, light blue collared shirt, deep gray tie, and brown shoes and belt. His shoes, unlike the others, had decorative dots that whirled in patterns across the shoe. “Full-brogue Oxfords may not be in fashion at the moment, but they’re always respectable.” He draped a tan trench coat and a deep green plaid scarf over Hudson’s shoulders, setting a matching flat cap on his head.</p><p> </p><p>Dev, the stylist in the combat boots, wandered over to evaluate Brooklyn, looking him up and down. “Any chance I get to keep the jacket?” Brooklyn asked hopefully. </p><p> </p><p>“For the party?” Dev shook their head. “But it’s not bad. It’d work for your photo. Just doesn’t fit the bill for tomorrow.” Instead, Dev put Brooklyn in a fitted oxblood suit and shoes in the same tan patina as their jacket. Brooklyn also wore a white collared shirt, but instead of a tie Dev had him leave the first few buttons undone. “Don’t want to look like you tried <em> too </em> hard.”</p><p> </p><p>Dev squinted at Brooklyn. “Your hair…”</p><p> </p><p>Brooklyn glared back. “No cutting, no dyeing.”</p><p> </p><p>Dev shook their head. “Never.” They directed Brooklyn to sit in one of the chairs. Dev felt the texture of his hair, taking large sections and twisting them, studying them. They pulled back a few sections, holding them in place as they moved to look at Brooklyn from the front. They nodded, making a decision only known to them. “We'll come back before you leave for the party. I'll do your hair then. Make sure you wash it.” They walked away from Brooklyn without another word, heading for the coffee.</p><p> </p><p>The stylist with the waved bob, Evelyn, was looking over me when she glanced at Dev with a pert smile on her lips. “That’s the most Dev’s ever spoken to a client. They must be impressed with your fiancé’s style.” She examined my face, tilting and turning it like she did with Lexington. “Now, if your fiancé is going to be in oxblood, you should be in...aubergine, perhaps.”</p><p> </p><p>“Not oxblood as well?” I asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh <em>no</em>, we don’t want you two to <em> match </em> , matching is juvenile, banal. No, we want you to <em> complement </em> each other.”</p><p> </p><p>“How about something like, ‘you’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met?’” Brooklyn came to stand next to me, smirking.</p><p> </p><p>Evelyn and I both rolled our eyes, but I couldn’t help smiling. “Very nice <em> compliment </em>, Brooklyn.”</p><p> </p><p>“And?” His smirk turned into a grin.</p><p> </p><p>Evelyn’s lips quirked in another pert smile. “Ah, yes, the ‘<em> each other </em>’ part.”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“Oh, <em> my </em> turn? Hmmm, let’s see…” I smiled. “How about: You’re one of the bravest people I’ve ever met. You survived a fight with Goliath that you picked <em> on purpose </em> , <em> just </em> to help him realize he was wrong.”</p><p> </p><p>Evelyn raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow, looking between us, then over her shoulder at Goliath. “Are you sure you want to go with ‘brave?’ Because that sounds incredibly foolish to me.”</p><p> </p><p>I laughed while Brooklyn glared at Evelyn, who returned his look with a satisfied smile. I laced my fingers with his. “It <em> was </em> brave. And maybe a little foolish, too, but most acts of bravery are.”</p><p> </p><p>“If you say so,” Evelyn said lightly. “Now, off with you, young man. We have work to do.” She waved him away, and he reluctantly went to talk with the others.</p><p> </p><p>She dressed me in a deep purple gown. The neck of the dress started near my collarbone, spreading in a line from shoulder to shoulder, connecting sleeves that stopped above my elbows. It dipped in a wide, deep v-shape in the back, the point stopping at the top of my lower back. The dress narrowed at my waist, then flared out from above my hips to just above my knees.  Most of the dress was made of delicate lace over satin, except for the sleeves and what felt like a scandalous amount of the top of the dress that was only lace. </p><p> </p><p>She gave me a pair of black velvet flats. They looked similar to the smoking slipper that had become recently popular for men, but they were slimmer and more delicate. Evelyn looked at the shoes critically. “If it was up to <em> me </em> , I would put you in a gorgeous peep-toe t-strap heel, but sadly I was told that you needed to be able to move quickly and confidently in what you wore. They’re not bad, but it’s not my <em>best</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>I looked down at the dress, smoothing my hands over the skirt. “Evelyn, your ‘best’ must be breathtaking, because this is <em> beautiful </em>!”</p><p> </p><p>She looked at me and smiled, pleased. “Of course it is, <em> I </em> picked it out! You look wonderful, my dear. We’ll be back tomorrow to put on the final touches for everyone.”</p><p> </p><p>The stylists hung up our disguises on one rack and packed up their supplies, wheeling all of the other racks out of the room.</p><p> </p><p>“Alright everyone, gather around! It’s time to go over the final pieces of our plan.” Xanatos sat at the table again, sipping from a cup of coffee poured for him by Owen. “You have your cover identities and your disguises, but we still need an actual <em> plan </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“The ‘plan’ is to find and rescue Elisa, is it not?” Goliath, like the other gargoyles-turned-humans, was tired, weary thanks to his lack of stone sleep and his unfamiliar human body.</p><p> </p><p>I interrupted Xanatos before he could respond to Goliath. “Wait, one more question before we get to the plan: how many ‘uses’ do their rings have? Everyone’s tired, and I think they’d like to get some stone sleep tomorrow before the party, but if the rings are a one-time use…” They looked relieved that I had remembered to bring it up.</p><p> </p><p>Xanatos gestured to Owen, who answered. “The rings have three ‘uses,’ as you put it. Once a ring is removed for a third time, it becomes a normal ring.”</p><p> </p><p>“Which you are welcome to keep.” Xanatos added. “Stone sleep, especially with its healing property, sounds like an excellent idea. The gathering is at midnight, and we’ll take my jet to the location, so it should only take an hour to get there. The stylists will be back here at nine, and we’ll make any final decisions while we wait to head to the party. You should be able to get a full day's worth of stone sleep, wake up as gargoyles, and recover from your transformation before we all gather together.”</p><p> </p><p>“What will <em> you </em> be doing while we stone sleep?” Goliath asked suspiciously.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll continue gathering what information I can, and maybe prepare some extra devices to help us in the rescue,” Xanatos said with a smile.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll be heading up early to finish setting up the raid.” Matt said. “I’ll stay in contact, make sure we’re all on the same page, and meet you at the landing location to pick up Hudson.”</p><p> </p><p>Xanatos looked at me, seeming to come up with an idea. “How about you assist me tomorrow, Melissa? Detective Bluestone mentioned you were a research librarian, and I could use the help. And you could practice those self-defense techniques with Owen, too.”</p><p> </p><p>I nodded. “Whatever I can do to help get Elisa back.”</p><p> </p><p>“Wonderful. Now, back to Goliath’s question: yes, the plan is to find and rescue Elisa. But we need at least a few more specific steps. Not many, since we don’t know where she’ll be during the party, but at least some.”</p><p> </p><p>Goliath nodded, begrudgingly. “Such as?”</p><p> </p><p>“A codeword!” Broadway said excitedly. “For when we spot her!”</p><p> </p><p>“Leave it to the detective film buff to spoil the surprise,” Xanatos smirked. “Yes. We’ll be connected through hidden earpieces and microphones. The first person to spot Elisa should signal to the others that you’ve found her. It should be something that wouldn’t usually come up in conversation, but would be easy to work in. Broadway, would you like to do the honors?”</p><p> </p><p>Broadway held his chin in his hand, thinking. “It’s got to make sense with the party, but we don’t know a lot about the party!” Broadway squinted, like he was thinking harder. Then he spied Xanatos’ cup. “How about ‘espresso?’”</p><p> </p><p>“Why ‘espresso?’” I asked, curious.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s in the middle of the night, humans are usually tired when it’s that late. I know <em> I </em> am. It’d be easy to say something about needing coffee, but ‘ <em> espresso’ </em> is fancier! Even evil people like caffeine, and these guys are probably really evil <em>and</em> fancy!”</p><p> </p><p>“Alright,” Xanatos agreed. “‘Espresso’ it is, then! So, once someone says the codeword, and they’d have to work in their current location, we all meet up at that location. From there, you’ll most likely transform back into gargoyles, then we’ll just have to wing it.” He raised an eyebrow. “No pun intended, I assure you.”</p><p> </p><p>He stood and adjusted his jacket. “And now, it’s time for us humans to get some sleep. The cars will take you back to the Civic Center. Until tomorrow, everyone!”</p><p> </p><p>All of us were exhausted, glad to be heading home. As Xanatos’ cars drove out of the Civic Center parking garage, the others began boarding the elevator. At this late hour, no one would be around to notice a large group of people piling into a janitor’s closet near the top floor. Brooklyn hung back, urging the others to go ahead.</p><p> </p><p>“Melissa, what would you say to me coming back to the safehouse with you?” He sounded hopeful and weary.</p><p> </p><p>“I’d like that,” I smiled at him, but I could feel exhaustion weighing on me. He waved to the others, Goliath nodding back.</p><p> </p><p>“Guess that leaves me to play chauffeur?” Matt half-joked, yawning. “Let’s get you both to the safehouse, then. I’m <em> beat </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>The car ride back was quiet, a soft synth song accompanying us the entire trip.</p><p><br/>
“... <em> All I needed was the love you gave, All I needed for another day, And all I ever knew, Only you… </em>”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sorry it took me a while on this chapter, it was a struggle to write it!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0038"><h2>38. Thirty Eight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Brooklyn falls asleep for the first time.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Matt dropped us off at the safehouse’s private elevator and quickly drove off, hoping to get as much sleep as possible before beginning his long day of coordinating - then running - the raid on the Four Horsemen’s party.</p><p> </p><p>Brooklyn and I slouched against the elevator wall, my head resting on his shoulder, his head resting on top of mine. It was insufferably late, and both Brooklyn and I were tired. This was different from the ‘many days of stress without sleep’ kind of tired that I had experienced a few nights ago. That kind of tired sets you on edge, frays at your nerves until they’re raw, burns you down to ash. This was the kind of tired that sunk to the core of your bones and made your spirit ache as much as your body. The kind of tired that begs for quiet and stillness.</p><p> </p><p>“If this is what it feels like to be human at the end of a long day,” he said quietly, exhaustion slowing his words, “I’ll stick with being a gargoyle. This <em> sucks </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>I gave a half-hearted chuckle. “I can’t wait for a hot bath. Everything <em> hurts </em>, and not just from those self-defense lessons.”</p><p> </p><p>The elevator reached the apartment, and I slung off my shoes and dumped my purse as soon as we exited it. I rubbed my face with my hands, trying to get up enough energy to get ready for bed.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, Melissa?” Brooklyn quickly glanced at me then away as he shrugged out of his jacket and slipped off his shoes. “About me staying here tonight...I didn’t mean...uh, I don’t want...” He sighed, frustrated at how his exhaustion was clouding his speech, making it difficult to put what he wanted to say in the right order. He blushed a little as well. “I wanted to come back here to sleep with you, but not <em> sleep with you </em>. Is...is that alright?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, of course,”I said with a smile, more than a little relieved. “I think we’re both too tired for joining, anyway.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s...it’s not that.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh...” What did that mean? Was he more hurt from the fight than he let on? Was he just too tired, and unfamiliar with the feeling? </p><p> </p><p>Was it because of me? That question, I knew, was born out of baseless fear, but it flashed through my mind nonetheless.</p><p> </p><p>I wanted to ask more, but I noticed that his blush had deepend. Whatever the reason was, it seemed to embarrass him, and I didn’t want to push him to tell me something he wasn’t ready to.</p><p> </p><p>“I...I don’t want to join like <em> this </em> .” He motioned to his body again. He had done it a lot over the course of the day, but I didn’t realize until now that each time he mentioned his human form, it was more and more negative. He flexed his fingers, like he was trying to snatch his next words from the air around him. “I’m not <em> me </em> , I mean this <em> is </em> me but it’s not <em> me. </em> The thought of joining while in <em>this</em> form... I just <em> can’t </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>I moved closer to him, but didn’t try to touch him. “You can take the ring off, if you want. Not to join,” I mentioned quickly. “Just to get back into your own skin.”</p><p> </p><p>“No. I want to stay like this for a little longer, I want to try to get used to it enough for it to be normal tomorrow. And that transformation...it <em> hurts </em> . A <em> lot </em> . But I also want...um, I want to feel what it’s like to sleep the way <em> you </em> do.”</p><p> </p><p>“Brooklyn, are you sure? It just seems like while you’ve been in human form you’ve been...” I tried to search for the right wording. “You seem like you’ve been in agony.”</p><p> </p><p>He nodded and looked in the foyer’s gold-framed mirror. “I’m missing pieces of myself.” He lifted his hands to his forehead, where his horns would have started if he was in gargoyle form. “I don’t have my horns, my wings, my tail. My legs feel like they’re shaped <em> wrong </em> . I don’t even have my <em> talons </em>!” He looked at his fingernails, eyebrows pinched together with a level of anguish I couldn’t begin to imagine.</p><p> </p><p>“Then why won’t you take your ring off?” The tone in his voice made me scared for him, and I reached out, wrapping my hands around his fingers so he couldn’t look at them anymore. I hadn’t wanted to touch him, but I couldn’t stand the way he stared at his fingernails. Like he wanted to pull them off and see if his talons were underneath. “Why won’t you let yourself be ‘whole?’”</p><p> </p><p>“Because of this.” He drew one of my hands near to him, kissing it with trembling lips, eyes locked on mine and turning red and watery with tears he didn’t want to shed.</p><p> </p><p>His beak. When he was in his human form, he didn’t have his beak, but lips.</p><p> </p><p>Did he think it got in the way? Was he still worried about hurting me? Was Broadway’s ‘ugly’ joke still bothering him? Did telling him I preferred his gargoyle form upset him, somehow leading to this?! More and more questions built up in my mind, and I had to push them away for later. </p><p> </p><p>This wasn’t about information. It was about answers. Answers that he needed me to give him.</p><p> </p><p>But I didn't know what the question was.</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t want to take his ring off, but being human was tortuous for him. Could I convince him that it was going to be okay? Should I convince him to take the ring off? Should I pull it off of him?</p><p> </p><p>What was the answer? What was the question?</p><p> </p><p>I didn’t know. </p><p> </p><p><em> I didn’t know </em>.</p><p> </p><p>I looked at the version of Brooklyn standing in front of me. The confidence that he had carried into the apartment earlier today, when I had first seen his human form, was completely drained from him. Agony was written all over him, staining his skin, searing into his soul, carving itself into his bones. More scars slashed into his heart that stone sleep wouldn’t heal.</p><p> </p><p>I let go of his hands and held out my arms, as gentle an invitation as I could give. He accepted, stepping close so I could fold my arms lightly around him. He bent down, slouching so he could rest his cheek on my shoulder, arms weakly wrapped around me.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve never been through what you’re going through right now,” I said quietly. “I don’t know what I can say or do to make everything okay. But I’m glad you told me. You don’t have to feel this way <em> alone </em>. I’m here.”</p><p> </p><p>He started shaking, breath hitching as he cried. I stroked his back, pulling him into me, holding him up as he cried more and more. As his heart broke, so did mine.</p><p> </p><p>After a while he went quiet, and we stood in the foyer, holding each other. I pulled back from him, looking at the blotches on his face and the dark circles under his eyes. His jaw was still swollen, although it had gone down quite a bit. I realized how stiff my arms and back were from the self-defense lesson earlier.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve got an idea,” I said, brushing away the last of his tears from his face. “It will solve absolutely nothing, but it will be relaxing, possibly distracting, and we’ll be getting ready for bed at the same time. And it <em> does </em> involve taking our clothes off, but nothing to do with joining, okay?”</p><p> </p><p>He sniffed a little, rubbing his nose on his shirt. “What did you have in mind?”</p><p> </p><p>Hot water was pouring into the giant oval whirlpool tub in the ensuite bathroom as I grabbed bottles from the shower and placed them on the tile ledges surrounding the tub. I dug through the cabinets and drawers to find other products, scented with sandalwood and bergamot, and placed them on the ledges too. I pulled four overly-fluffy towels from the closet as well, hanging them on a heated towel rack between the shower and the tub. The whole bathroom was the size of my living room, completely ridiculous in scale, but I was glad for it. It was nice to have so much space, even for just a little while. I turned the faucet off and felt the water one more time. Almost scalding. <em> Perfect </em>. I switched the jets on and went into the bedroom, where Brooklyn was sitting on the bed.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s ready!”</p><p> </p><p>“Cool.” He was still tired, but seemed to be in slightly better spirits. “You’re not just trying to tell me I stink, right?” His smirk was droopy but genuine. He had taken his shirt and jeans off, leaving on what appeared to be the under-layer from his kilt.</p><p> </p><p>I picked up his discarded shirt and sniffed it dramatically. “Maybe a little, but I like it.” I let it drop back to the ground and peeled out of my own clothes and bra, letting them fall in the same place. Like Brooklyn, I kept my underwear on. I motioned to the bathroom door. “Ready?”</p><p> </p><p>He nodded, standing up to take my hand so I could lead him into the bathroom. He seemed impressed by the tub’s jets. “It’s like a hot tub!”</p><p> </p><p>I climbed into the gigantic tub, walking to the far edge and sliding to sit in the steaming, bubbling water. The water reached my collarbone and I could stretch my legs out without my feet touching the other side of the tub. “Exactly! Have you been in one before?”</p><p> </p><p>He carefully stepped down into the tub and slid to sit in the opposite end of the oval. He sighed happily. We had enough room along the bottom of the tub to stretch out our legs and not touch, but we let them bump together lightly under the whirling water.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, I’ve sat in a few rooftop hot tubs when no one was looking.” He tipped his head back, resting it on a tile ledge and closing his eyes. I watched him relax slowly, enjoying watching the tension ease out of his shoulders and the worry ease out of his face.</p><p> </p><p>When the water had cooled slightly, I stopped the jets and handed him a washcloth, pointing at one of the bottles on the ledge near him. “<em> That one </em> is for your body.” I reached behind me for the body wash I had used earlier, squeezing a glob onto my washcloth and rubbing it along my arms, suds dripping into the water. We washed ourselves, jasmine-lavender suds swirling with sandalwood-bergamot ones.</p><p> </p><p>I motioned him forward. “Turn around.” He spun awkwardly in the tub, bending his legs at odd angles until he sat with his back towards me. I took his washcloth and rubbed it in circles along his back, concentrating on areas that felt tense, trying to ease the knots in his shoulders. He did the same for me, helping ease my own sore muscles.</p><p> </p><p>The tub’s faucet was connected to a handheld showerhead. I took it and switched it on, running hot water over my head to drench my hair. I handed the showerhead to him as I grabbed for the shampoo bottle. “Just soak your hair, I’ll help you with the rest.”</p><p> </p><p>I washed my hair, getting the showerhead back from him to rinse out the shampoo, then the conditioner, squeezing the extra water out of my hair. I motioned for him to turn around again.</p><p> </p><p>“This is probably going to take a while, you’ve got a <em> lot </em> of hair, and I’m guessing you’ve never washed it before?”</p><p> </p><p>“Stone sleep takes care of that stuff,” he said, feeling over his wet hair.</p><p> </p><p>“And you glide around in high speed winds, which means you’re going to have a lot of knots and tangles. This part might not be as relaxing after all…”</p><p> </p><p>I sat up on the ledge of the tub and had him move closer. I poured a healthy dose of shampoo on his head and dug my fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp and starting to sort out the tangles. He seemed to enjoy the scalp massage, but winced in pain more than once at the tangles.</p><p> </p><p>I took the bottle of sandalwood-bergamot conditioner and continued to take out all the tangles in his hair. I combed through his hair with my fingers over and over again, rinsing and applying more conditioner. By the final rinse, his hair was free from knots and the bottle of conditioner was empty.</p><p> </p><p>Thoroughly shampooed, conditioned, and cleaned, I pressed the drain plug and climbed out of the tub, reaching for the pleasantly warm towels. We towel dried our bodies and hair with warm, fluffy towels in floral-scented steam.</p><p> </p><p>On the way to the apartment the first time, Matt had stopped off at a drugstore and purchased some basic toiletries for Brooklyn, including a toothbrush and toothpaste. We stood wrapped in the fluffy towels and brushed our teeth. I looked at him in the mirror.</p><p> </p><p>“So, do you feel a little better?” He slowed down his brushing, thinking about how to answer. “It’s okay if the answer’s ‘no.’” I smiled a little, fully tired and eager to go to sleep.</p><p> </p><p>He spat the toothpaste out. “A little. Not totally, but a little.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s better than not at all, or feeling even worse.”</p><p> </p><p>I went into the bedroom to find my pajamas and had another thought. “Brooklyn? Any chance Matt got you some pajamas?”</p><p> </p><p>He poked his head out from the ensuite. “Yeah, he said he left some for me.”</p><p> </p><p>I went back out towards the main room and spied a duffel bag on the couch. I brought it into the bedroom and opened it, finding a brand-new pack of boxers and a random assortment of newly purchased clothes. I pulled out a pair of blue and white cotton pants and a white tank top and opened the boxers, bringing the pile of clothes to Brooklyn. “Remember to thank Matt the next time you see him.”</p><p> </p><p>He changed in the bathroom while I changed into a camisole and cotton shorts. Brooklyn came out of the bathroom and stood awkwardly next to the bed.</p><p> </p><p>“Pick whatever side you want,” I suggested to him.</p><p> </p><p>He shook his head. “You first. You probably have a preference.”</p><p> </p><p>I pulled down the covers on the left side of the bed, slipping in while Brooklyn moved to the other side and did the same. He laid down stiffly, arms by his side, staring at the ceiling.</p><p> </p><p>After a few minutes, he asked, “So when will I fall asleep?”</p><p> </p><p>I smiled and turned on my side to face him. “Everyone’s different. I close my eyes and take deep breaths until I just drift off to sleep. Have you really never fallen asleep outside of stone sleep?”</p><p> </p><p>“Nope, not even a nap. I’ll kick back and close my eyes, but I’ve never fallen asleep. I’ll try that breathing thing.” </p><p> </p><p>I turned out the bedside lamp, leaving the curtains open to let the moonlight shine through the panels, making pools of silvery light on the floor. I heard Brooklyn take some deep breaths in the quiet night, but he shifted around, still awake.</p><p> </p><p>I turned on my side again. “I’ve got another idea.” I turned onto my back again and patted the space next to me. “If you want, lie down on your side here, facing me.”</p><p> </p><p>He hesitated again. “I thought we agreed to not joining?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, and I still agree to that. I’m planning to hold you and guide you to sleep. Do you want to try it?”</p><p> </p><p>He paused, then shifted to lie next to me, my arm under his head.</p><p> </p><p>“Next, put your head here,” I tapped my chest, above my heart. “You might be more comfortable if you put your arm across me.”</p><p> </p><p>He did, while I kept my arms still instead of reaching for him in return. He was still stiff and uncomfortable, so I didn’t push him. We stayed like that for a few breaths.</p><p> </p><p>“Can you hear my heart beating?” He nodded. “Can you feel when I inhale and exhale?” He nodded again. “I want you to breathe with me, same rhythm. Try not to think about anything else, just breathing in and out.”</p><p> </p><p>We lay in the dark, breathing in and out together slowly, the sound of my heartbeat in his ear. I felt him start to relax, and his breathing deepened, slowing.</p><p> </p><p>I gently placed one hand on his hair, and the other on the arm he had placed across me. He continued breathing deeper and deeper, shifting to settle into me as he began to fall asleep.</p><p> </p><p>In the quiet of the gray bedroom, watching the moon through the windows, the faint sounds of the city underneath Brooklyn’s breathing, I quietly sang an old song I loved. The vibrations of my voice gently traveled through my chest, even though they weren’t nearly as powerful as a gargoyle’s purr.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Stars shining bright above you, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Night breezes seem to whisper, ‘I love you,’ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Birds singing in the sycamore tree, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Dream a little dream of me... </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He sighed heavily, relaxing completely, successfully asleep.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Say ‘nighty night’ and kiss me, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Just hold me tight and tell me you’ll miss me, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> While I’m alone and blue as can be, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Dream a little dream of me… </em>
</p><p> </p><p>I started to drift off too, content knowing that he was firmly asleep, free from his worries for a few hours, dreams willing.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Stars fading, but I linger on dear, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Just craving your kiss, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I’m longing to linger till dawn, dear, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Just saying this… </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Sweet dreams,” I murmured to Brooklyn.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Sweet dreams and leave all worries behind you, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But in your dreams whatever they be, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Dream a little dream, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Of me. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The moon traveled across the sky above the city, quiet and bright, drifting towards sunrise.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So, why doesn't this chapter have a * on it? I think a certain Southern United States phrase works well to describe why this chapter isn't *: "You know what the difference between 'naked' and 'nekkid' is? 'Naked' means you don't have any clothes on. 'Nekkid' means you don't have any clothes on, and you're up to something" (Lewis Grizzard OR Alan Simpson, depends on the source).</p><p>Joking aside, I really love the idea of being so comfortable around someone that you can be (some degree of) naked around them without it having to be a big deal/something sexual. Depends on your comfort level, your relationship with them, etc. But, to /me/, that level of vulnerability can be really sweet and emotionally intimate. Because this chapter's about emotional and physical intimacy, /not/ sexual intimacy, I decided it didn't need a *.</p><p>But who knows what'll happen in the next chapter? ;)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0039"><h2>39. Thirty Nine*</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Brooklyn and Melissa spend the early morning together.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Remember, * means /sexy stuff!/ No major plot points if you'd prefer to skip!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I woke before Brooklyn did, the morning sunlight creating gold sunspots where the silvery moonlight had been.</p><p> </p><p>His head still rested on my chest, his arm still laying across my stomach. I gently lifted my hands off of him, placing them on the bed. I didn’t know how he would feel when he woke up, but if he was still uncomfortable in his human form I didn’t want my touch to make it worse.</p><p> </p><p>He stirred a little while later, waking up slowly. He lifted his head, then rested it on my chest again, still half asleep.</p><p> </p><p>“So that’s what sleep’s like,” he mumbled, close to dozing off again.</p><p> </p><p>“Mmhmm. Any dreams?”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t think so…”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you dream in stone sleep?”</p><p> </p><p>He shook his head gently, nuzzling into me. He slid the arm draped across my stomach tighter around me, pulling himself a little closer to me. “Nope,” he said with a sigh.</p><p> </p><p>“Want to sleep in a little more?”</p><p> </p><p>He turned his head slightly, placing a gentle kiss on my chest above my heart, looking up at me with a sleepy smile. “Nope.”</p><p> </p><p>He pulled himself forward, gently kissing the side of my neck, then my cheek. He leaned in towards my lips.</p><p> </p><p>“Wait.” He paused, leaning back to look at me. “You weren’t feeling well last night. Are you sure you’re up for, um...doing stuff?”</p><p> </p><p>He smiled sleepily again. “Not all the stuff, but maybe I can show you what I had in mind?”</p><p> </p><p>I smiled back, my heart beating faster as he leaned in again, kissing me softly and slowly. He had improved immensely since yesterday, and it seemed like still being sleepy stopped him from worrying about his technique.</p><p> </p><p>I let my hands lightly drift back to him, one on the arm he was holding me with, the other to his hair, still smelling of sandalwood and bergamot.</p><p> </p><p>He deepened his kiss and slid his hand to my stomach, slowly stroking up and down, his touch light. I moved my own hand to his shoulder, giggling when a stroke passed over a ticklish spot, making him smile.</p><p> </p><p>He slipped his hand low, edging the tips of his fingers just under the waistband of my shorts. His dark eyes searched mine. “Is this okay?”</p><p> </p><p>I could feel my heartbeat pulsing in my lips, in my tongue, in my lower stomach, right where his hand rested. My legs tingled all the way down to my toes. “Y-yes.” I was almost breathless, waiting.</p><p> </p><p>He leaned in to kiss me, and as his tongue delicately slipped between my lips to brush mine, his hand slid under my shorts, fingers stroking and exploring me. I had decided against putting on underwear last night. It was turning out to be a <em> great </em> decision.</p><p> </p><p>He nestled a finger between my labia, caressing up and down slowly, almost teasingly. I dug my fingers into his hair as he moved to kiss my neck again, continuing to move his finger slowly.</p><p> </p><p>I hummed and sighed happily, inching my legs further apart, opening up more of myself to his touch. He slid his fingers to my clitoris, using two to massage it, pressing down gently, then harder, then gently again. I exhaled with a soft moan, shifting my legs further apart.</p><p> </p><p>“How does that feel?” He whispered in my ear, his breath sending shivers along my neck.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Amazing </em>.” My reply was breathy, my heartbeat speeding up even more. “I...I should…” I started to slide my hand down his side until he kissed me fiercely and roughly, surprising me. </p><p> </p><p>He pulled back, and as I caught my breath I looked at him, confused. “Don’t do a thing. Let me take care of you.”</p><p> </p><p>He dove back in with a deep but slower kiss. He started stroking me with a finger again, gently dipping inside me as he slid up and down. My heart jumped, beating wildly, and I pulsed my hips along with his strokes.</p><p> </p><p>He slid his finger further and further in as he stroked, anchoring the heel of his hand on my clit. I broke away from his kiss to whisper into his ear. “I want to show you something.” I reached down, placing my hand on top of the one he was using to caress me, my fingers resting over his. He looked at me curiously, eyebrow raised. “Just follow my lead.”</p><p> </p><p>He smiled and leaned down to kiss my neck. “Lead away.” I pushed our middle fingers inside of me, sighing happily. I curled our fingers, pressing upward, searching until I found it.</p><p> </p><p>“Can you feel that?” I pushed the tip of his finger up into the spongy cluster of folds, almost on the other side of my clit.</p><p> </p><p>He pushed his fingertip into the spot harder, circling it slightly. “Here?”</p><p> </p><p>A gentle rush went through me. “<em> Yes </em>! Mmmm…” I withdrew my finger, letting him continue massaging my g-spot, his palm still kneading into my clit. “You catch on fast!” </p><p> </p><p>I moaned as he tucked another finger in me, pressing and caressing my g-spot as he slid in and out. As he pressed harder and faster, I spread my knees wider and pressed the soles of my feet together, the diamond shape allowing me to open fully to him. My free hand clutched at the bedsheets near my hip, helping me press open my hips even more.</p><p> </p><p>He pushed up onto his elbow and looked down at me, a dreamlike look in his eyes that had nothing to do with sleep. “Ready?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, <em> yes </em>, ahhhh...” I panted harder and harder, my racing heartbeat pulsing through my body.</p><p> </p><p>He removed his hand and shifted to his knees, moving himself to kneel in front of me, and pulled off my shorts, tossing them to the side. He lifted my legs, pulling me towards him and hooking my knees over his hips. I was exposed, sopping and pulsating. I moved my hands to his thighs, clutching them with anticipation. </p><p> </p><p>He trailed his fingers along my labia, smiling when I quivered at his touch. He slid two of his fingers into me, caressing me slowly, pressing into my g-spot. He used the thumb of his other hand to press and massage my clit in circles.</p><p> </p><p>I panted and moaned, my fingers grasping at the firm muscle of his thighs. I couldn’t take my eyes off him, watching the muscles in his arms move as he quickened his caresses, looking into his eyes as he leaned over me, pressing his fingers farther and harder into me. I moaned, pressing my hips closer to him, coaxing him to push deeper.</p><p> </p><p>He leaned further down, kissing me, caressing and massaging me even faster, fingers pressing hard into my clit and g-spot. My hands went to his hair, pulling him closer to me, parting his lips with my tongue. He plunged his tongue into my mouth, circling and stroking just like his fingers. I rocked my hips, my moans wrapped up in our tongues, my fingers digging into his hair.</p><p> </p><p>My hips opened and he pushed his willing fingers to their furthest depth, pressing hard. The rush went through me in overlapping waves, rippling across my body. My inner walls constricted, fluttering around his fingers. I couldn’t contain myself in our kiss, breaking away to gasp out the last few moans of my climax.</p><p> </p><p>“Ahh, Brooklyn, that’s good! Y-you’re a quick study…” I trailed off, panting, trying to catch my breath.</p><p> </p><p>He sat back, smirking proudly, sliding his fingers out of me slowly. “So, if I’m getting this right, you enjoyed that?”</p><p> </p><p>I laughed, propping myself up on my elbows, my knees still hooked around his hips. “Oh yes, <em> very </em> much!” I looked between my legs and noticed a certain swelling in the front of his pajama pants.</p><p> </p><p>My mind was fuzzy with bliss, and I started to reach a hand towards his pajamas. “Is it your turn now?” I was in a daze until he grabbed my wrist to stop me.</p><p> </p><p>“No!”</p><p> </p><p>I froze, staring at him, watching anguish steal into his face. I gently pulled my hand back, shifting back so I could sit up without brushing up against the lump under his pants.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay...I just...wanted to return the favor…”</p><p> </p><p>He turned to sit on the edge of the bed, his gaze lowering to the floor along with his feet. His shoulders were tense, like he was waiting to be yelled at.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s okay, Brooklyn.”</p><p> </p><p>He sighed. “Remember the first night we kissed, and I reached for your breasts, and you didn’t want me to because you said it didn’t make you feel good?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, and you respected that, and I’ll respect that you don’t want to be touched there. It’s okay!”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s <em> not </em> okay! I...I can't even stand the <em>idea</em> of being touched there, it doesn't even feel good to <em>not</em> touch it!” He rubbed his hands over his face. “It’s <em> supposed </em> to feel normal, right?! So <em> why doesn’t this feel normal </em> ?!” He kept his hands over his face. “It doesn’t <em> feel right </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>I wracked my brain, trying to think of something, <em> anything </em> , that could help him. <em> He kept saying it didn’t feel right </em> , I thought, <em> his body didn’t feel right, he was missing pieces. But this doesn’t seem to be about what’s missing, but about what’s </em> there <em> . Could it be... </em></p><p> </p><p>“<em> The Pack </em>!”</p><p> </p><p>He looked up from his hands. “<em> The Pack </em> ? What about <em> The Pack </em> ? What does <em> The Pack </em> have to do with this?!”</p><p> </p><p>“Last night! Remember you had to tell me about <em> gargoyle </em> anatomy, and I told you about <em> human </em> anatomy?” He nodded. “And I told you that all the humans I’ve been with always had their genitals ‘out,’ which was different from gargoyles, and then you said -”</p><p> </p><p>“-’That’s why those crotch kicks are so effective,’” he finished. “And?”</p><p> </p><p>“Have you thought that maybe part of the reason that you’re uncomfortable is that <em> you’re uncomfortable </em> ? What if you’re <em> physically </em> uncomfortable because your genitals aren’t <em> physically </em> tucked away like when you’re a gargoyle?”</p><p> </p><p>“What are you talking about?” He shook his head slightly, confused.</p><p> </p><p>“Hang on, let me think…” I pressed my fist to my forehead, trying to figure out how to tell him what I meant. “Okay, so <em> normally </em> for you, you don’t have a cut on your arm, right? So if you poured lemon juice on your skin, all you feel is the juice, nothing uncomfortable or unusual.” </p><p> </p><p>He nodded, hopefully following along.</p><p> </p><p>“But when you get a cut on your arm, your cut exposes stuff that’s normally put away, like your nerves, for example. And when lemon juice gets poured on your skin <em> when you have a cut </em> , it feels uncomfortable and unusual - it  <em> hurts </em> - because those nerves that are hidden under your skin are now <em> exposed </em> and an external stimulus makes it feel even worse. Does...does that make any sense?”</p><p> </p><p>I could see him thinking it over, considering it. “So, you’re saying...that having my ‘stuff’ <em> out </em> in human form is like pouring lemon juice into a cut?”</p><p> </p><p>“More like...a mist of lemon water constantly falling on your cut. Maybe not <em> awful </em> at first, but it gets worse and worse the longer you’re exposed to it.”</p><p> </p><p>He stared at the wall, hand on his chin. “I...think that might actually be right.”</p><p> </p><p>“Really?”</p><p> </p><p>He looked at me and nodded, smiling a little. “Yeah, I think so! But,” he shifted and winced a little, “it doesn’t make it <em> feel </em> any better.”</p><p> </p><p>“Which means it’s probably time for you to take that ring off and get some stone sleep.”</p><p> </p><p>He nodded and looked nervous and relieved. I leaned over to whisper in his ear. “Thank you for this morning. Even though you weren’t feeling good, <em> you </em> made <em> me </em> feel really, really, <em> really </em> good.”</p><p> </p><p>“Always happy to help,” he said with a smile and a raised eyebrow. We leaned towards one another, sharing another gentle kiss.</p><p> </p><p>Then I hopped off the bed and pulled on my discarded shorts. There was a lot to do to get ready for the party tonight, and less and less daylight to do it in.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0040"><h2>40. Forty</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Melissa learns what the gargoyles' human transformation is really like, and looks for more information with Xanatos.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Brooklyn had found a pair of athletic shorts in the duffel bag Matt had brought and changed into them, dropping his pajamas back into the bag. His wings and tail would return when he took his ring off, ripping up any clothing in the way. He was jittery, anxious to change back into his gargoyle form, even if he was just going to go instantly into stone sleep.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I was able to convince him to let me brush his hair out before he transformed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I still - ow! - don’t get </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span> - </span>
  <em>
    <span>ouch</span>
  </em>
  <span>! - you’re torturing me like this!” He winced every time the brush snagged on a tangle. “Didn’t we </span>
  <em>
    <span>already</span>
  </em>
  <span> take care of - </span>
  <em>
    <span>oww</span>
  </em>
  <span>! - this last night?!” He grunted as I pulled the brush through the ends of his hair, then groaned when I reached for another section of hair.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I took care of the big tangles, but not all these little ones. Ah! Sorry!” He yelped as the brush caught on another knot.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just don’t pull </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> of my hair out, okay?” He pouted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll try not to,” I said with a smile, glad he couldn’t see me. Sometimes he acted more like a moody Gen X’er than a semi-mythical being who was over one thousand years old. I finished the last pass with the brush and set it aside, patting him on the shoulders. “All done!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Finally! I’m surprised I’m not bald after that!” I raised my eyebrows at him and crossed my arms. “Uh, I mean, thanks.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay, I know you’re excited to get that ring off.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looked down at his hand, then at the sunlight brightening the room. “Think it’d be okay if I just stayed here? I’d rather not waste daylight going all the way to the clock tower before transforming.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t see why not. Are you ready?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He went to stand near the windows, looking out over the city. “I’m ready to be back in my skin, but I don’t think I could ever be ready for the pain. Hopefully I’ll go into stone sleep </span>
  <em>
    <span>before</span>
  </em>
  <span> I can feel it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brooklyn stepped back from the windows and took a deep breath. “Here goes nothing.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As soon as he pulled the ring off of his hand, both transformations began. His horns began growing up through his forehead, breaking through his skin. The bones in his face shifted and elongated with stomach-turning crunches and snaps. His shoulder blades seemed to split in half, dividing and lengthening to become his wings, his skin stretching to cover the thin bones. Talons grew through the tips of his fingers, and I could see his spine wriggling on its own, growing new vertebrae to re-form his tail. His skin shifted, his pale skin giving way to red. He fell to his knees, fear and pain twisting his features even further. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He began to scream...and was cut off as he turned to stone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sounds of ripping and snapping and screaming seemed to implode, as if they were absorbed by the stone that now covered him. Brooklyn had finished transforming into his gargoyle form but the stone sleep took over him so fast that the expression on his face only showed one thing: agony.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The transformation had only lasted about one second. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The room was deathly quiet. I sunk to the floor in front of him. I covered my mouth with my hands, unable to look away from his frozen face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>“No, no, no, </span><em><span>no.</span></em> <em><span>Brooklyn</span></em><span>!” Was he frozen in pain for the rest of the day? Would he be suffering underneath a layer of stone for hours and hours? Should I put the ring back on him? I thought about what the transformation would be like in reverse and started sobbing.</span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I wiped the tears and snot away, sniffling, noticing Brooklyn’s ring laying on the carpet, where it had fallen from his hand as he transformed. I stared at it, then at the ring on my hand. “What the </span>
  <em>
    <span>hell</span>
  </em>
  <span> has this ring </span>
  <em>
    <span>done</span>
  </em>
  <span> to you?” My breath hitched as I tried to compose myself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s going to be worth it,” I said, looking into Brooklyn’s unseeing eyes. “We’re going to get Elisa back, and that pain’s going to be worth it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t even know if you can hear me...maybe I’m saying it more for myself, anyway.” I leaned forward, planting a soft kiss on his stone forehead. “I’m going to find more intel for tonight. If you’re going to go through all this pain, the least I can do is make sure we’ve got all the details we can get.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I stood up and slowly moved away from Brooklyn, glancing at his statue now and then as I got ready to leave. He was there, but he was unreachable. The loneliness came on as suddenly as his transformation. I could feel a void in my chest, not a wound, not even an absence. It was a terrible nothingness that hung in the room like invisible fog. I left his ring on the carpet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As the elevator doors closed in front of me, I felt like I was abandoning him to face his pain alone. I knew there wasn’t anything I could do for him that wouldn’t end up causing </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span> pain, but I wanted to do </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The only thing I could do was go to help Xanatos gather more information on tonight's party, if possible.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Owen was waiting with a car in the parking garage, and we drove towards Xanatos’ complex mostly in silence. He seemed like a solitary person, the kind of person who would only talk to someone if they absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>needed</span>
  </em>
  <span> to. I was too distracted by Brooklyn’s transformation replaying in my head to make conversation. The only sound in the car was the radio, playing a mournful jazz standard by Billie Holiday.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“...My hours are slumberless, dearest, the shadows I live with are numberless…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I reached over and switched off the radio. Owen looked over at me, his brows lowered in disapproval.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry… ‘Gloomy Sunday’ is too much for me right now…” I looked out the window at the city without seeing it. “She’s a great singer, I just…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine, Miss Campbell,” he said politely, but dismissively. “We’re almost to the complex, anyway.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I briefly wondered if Owen was particularly fond of jazz standards, which made me think of Clara. On lighter research days, we played music in the office off of a boombox kept underneath the extra desk. All three of us had collections of cassette tapes in our drawers for when it was our turn. Clara played jazz standards by Billie Holiday, Alberta Hunter, Duke Ellington, and many other singers and musicians of color. “Think of these songs as your musical education on </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span> music,” Clara would say with a smile when Jack complained about it being ‘boring.’ Maybe Fatimah liked jazz standards, too. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Or </span>
  </em>
  <span>had</span>
  <em>
    <span> liked</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I thought sadly. Jack had preferred a variety of Punk, Grunge, and Rock music, past and present. The tapes in my desk jumped genres, from Motown classics to The Beatles to Blondie and Queen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clara had said that jazz standards captured something about love and loneliness that current pop songs just didn’t. Thinking of ‘Misty,’ ‘Dream a Little Dream,’ and now ‘Gloomy Sunday,’ it seemed like jazz standards had started following me. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What I wouldn’t give for some Joan Jett right about now</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I thought as we entered the Xanatos’ complex’s parking garage.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Owen led me to Xanatos’ office. The temporary table was still there, this time piled high with books.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Miss Campbell, good morning!” Xanatos looked up from the book he was flipping through. “Are you ready to do some research?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I nodded and set my bag down, giving the books a cursory glance. Many of them were Biblical commentaries on the book of Revelation, the main section where the Four Horsemen were mentioned. There were also books on cults and secret societies, and a few very old books.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How old are these?” I looked closer at the volumes. They were in good condition, the covers intact, the pages yellowed but not quite brittle. Still, their content seemed to be much older than the books appeared to be.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Those are from the turn of the millenium.” I pulled my hand back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Really? These are in </span>
  <em>
    <span>amazing</span>
  </em>
  <span> condition! I’m guessing you had a trained archivist come in and tell you how to take care of them?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He nodded. “Of course. I couldn’t let these valuable manuscripts fall into disrepair.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>”I can't wait to see them! Do you have any tissues I could use for turning the pages?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Xanatos quirked an eyebrow. “Tissues? Aren’t white cotton gloves the standard for handling manuscripts?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, but a lot of people forget that even with gloves on, the pages are still really delicate. I may or may not have damaged a page in an original Shakespeare folio before…” Xanatos shook his head disapprovingly. “It was on a field trip, I was a kid, and really they shouldn’t have let us touch the folio </span>
  <em>
    <span>anyway</span>
  </em>
  <span>. But I learned my lesson: cotton gloves are only as gentle as the hand that wears them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fair enough.” Owen left the room briefly and returned with a box of tissues, setting them near the older books. “Well, let’s get started!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, what exactly are we looking for? General mentions and references? Specifics?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Anything that can help us prepare for whatever dramatics these four mysterious figures have in store for us.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh boy...please tell me you have coffee.” It was going to be a </span>
  <em>
    <span>long</span>
  </em>
  <span> day.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I threw myself into the research, writing any piece of information that could be even slightly useful on a notepad. Any mention of gatherings related to the Four Horsemen in history or literature or Biblically-based secret societies and cults was written down on the yellow paper, with a note on which book it came from. I noted other literature that referred to the Four Horsemen or was used in conjunction with them. Dante’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>Inferno</span>
  </em>
  <span> seemed to be a popular pairing. I also found quite a few references to crossroads serving as links between worlds, sometimes to the gods, sometimes to devils or demons. Many not-so-secret societies and cults had used pieces of the Bible as a base, or to justify their own twisted worldviews. Many of them used both Revelation and books from the Old Testament, the part of the Bible where a lot of ‘smiting’ and ‘reckoning’ happens.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I moved on to the older books, using tissues to create a barrier between the oils on my fingers and the delicate paper. I lifted the covers and pages on the edges, avoiding bending them when I could help it. It took a lot longer to search this way, but it was necessary to keep them in good condition.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They turned out to be illuminated manuscripts, intricate and detailed drawings framing the pages and intertwining with enlarged letters. The figures in the drawings were austere, with stern yet blank expressions on their faces. The books were mostly copies of Gospels from all over the world, most written in Latin although one or two were in Old English. I looked at the illustrations and tried to find words I recognized, noting which pages they appeared on so that we could try to translate them later. One was an apocryphal manuscript, each picture detailing what the end of the world was going to look like.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I stopped on a page where what looked like demons were attacking humans, presumably to punish them. From the look of the image, it seemed that the demons were dragging some of the humans towards the mouth of a cave filled with flames. An entrance to Hell. I stared at the misshapen figures on the page. Many of the demons were red, most of them had horns and tails, and several of them had wings. One had an elongated face, tusks curling out of its mouth at random angles. It didn’t look anything like him, but it reminded me of Brooklyn. Looking back over the demons, they all seemed like caricatures of gargoyles, drawn by people who feared them, exaggerating the terrifying aspects of their features.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you think these are based off of gargoyles?” I asked it absently, staring at the page, but Xanatos came over to look at the manuscript.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hmmm, perhaps. It seems logical, given that humans and gargoyles used to coexist in greater numbers, according to our mutual friends. You know, when they first awakened, they mentioned that the humans they were associated with treated them poorly. It’s possible that the humans took the ferocious nature of the gargoyles as inspiration for these designs.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I resisted the urge to turn and glare at him. According to Brooklyn and Goliath, Xanatos was just like the humans who had mistreated them. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I thought. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He was worse. He tried to make them believe he was treating them </span>
  </em>
  <span>well</span>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, maybe that’ll work in our favor tonight…” I looked up at Xanatos. “You know that the transformations from the rings </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurt</span>
  </em>
  <span> them, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Does it? I wasn’t aware of that. I had hoped that the transformations wouldn’t feel any different from turning to stone and back.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, you’re wrong.” He narrowed his eyes at me, clearly not used to hearing those two words said to him. “I watched Brooklyn transform from a human back into his original form. I could hear his bones snapping. It was awful to watch, I can’t imagine what it </span>
  <em>
    <span>felt</span>
  </em>
  <span> like.” I shivered, a queasy feeling in my stomach.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well. That’s unfortunate. Hopefully they can push through two more transformations for tonight.” He <em>sounded</em> sympathetic to the gargoyles’ painful experience, but something told me he wasn’t.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We finished going through the rest of the books. Many hours had passed, fueled by too many cups of coffee.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, I think it’s safe to assume that something about Dante’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>Inferno</span>
  </em>
  <span> and something about crossroads is going to be associated with the party tonight,” I said, looking over my notes. “Everything else I have here is just repetitions of the same references to the Four Horsemen that we already know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Xanatos didn’t seem surprised. “Most secret societies and cults tend to just rehash the same content and claim it’s original. I didn’t find anything useful, I’m afraid. But hopefully those two pieces of information will serve us well tonight.” He stood and looked at me. Something about how he stared at me made me uncomfortable, like he was calculating something.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How would you like to stay for dinner, Miss Campbell?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I was so surprised that I almost choked on the sip of cold coffee I had just taken. “I’m sorry?” I said between coughs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dinner. It’s a meal typically eaten in the evening.” He chuckled, a wry smile on his face. “Would you like to have it here, with me? You’ve been spending a lot of time with our mutual friends, maybe having some </span>
  <em>
    <span>human</span>
  </em>
  <span> company would be a welcome respite.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, no, I mean, thank you for the invitation, but I’m afraid I can’t.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah. Do you have dinner plans with someone else?” He said it innocently, even though he knew well enough that I was in hiding and unable to go anywhere.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I need to get my cover documents and the lipstick case you gave me from the safehouse. I may as well go do that and try to get some rest. We’ve got a long night ahead of us if we’re to rescue Elisa.” I mentally crossed my fingers, hoping he’d take the hint.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He shrugged. “Very well, perhaps next time.” He didn’t seem upset or disappointed, but that calculating look was still in his eye. “See you in a few hours, then.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>On the car ride back to the safehouse, Owen turned on his radio again, glancing at me cooly to see if I was going to object to the music.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Instead, I asked him, “What does my ring do?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Pardon?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My ring. You enchanted the gargoyles’ rings to transform them into humans, but what does mine do?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was quiet for a few seconds, long enough that I thought he wasn't going to answer me. “Yours has a protection spell cast on it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If it has a protection spell, why did I have to practice self-defense moves with you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s not like a shield or a forcefield, Miss Campbell. It’s a fail-safe. A last resort. The spell will activate if you’re in danger and cannot get yourself out of it or be rescued. I suggest that you act as if the ring was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> enchanted.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So that I don’t take any chances and assume the ring will take care of it,” I nodded. “Owen...did <em>you</em> know that the transformations would be painful for the gargoyles?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I did not. The spellbook did not go into details about the results of the spell, just its casting. For what little it may be worth, I apologize for the transformation’s...unfortunate side-effect.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>‘Side-effect’ meaning 'debilitating pain.'</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think that’s an apology you should be making to the </span>
  <em>
    <span>gargoyles</span>
  </em>
  <span>. But, I guess you couldn’t help it if you’re just following instructions in a spellbook.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Indeed.” Owen’s face remained as impassive as it always was, but he turned up the radio and didn’t say anything for the rest of the car ride.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I made it back into the apartment a few minutes before sunset, hurrying to the bedroom to be there when Brooklyn woke up. His statue was untouched, the torture and agony still frozen on his face. I knelt on the floor next to him, glancing through the windows, waiting for the sun to set.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As the last sliver of sunlight disappeared, cracks formed in his statue, pieces beginning to fall off to show red skin underneath. With a sudden roar from deep in his chest, the stone fell off of him, freeing him. I caught him as he fell forward, holding him up while he took deep breaths.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Brooklyn, are you okay?!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah...I’m alright…” He knelt back on his heels, sounding tired, but didn’t seem to be in pain anymore. “That was so much </span>
  <em>
    <span>worse</span>
  </em>
  <span> that going from stone to human was.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t know if you were still in pain while you were in stone sleep, but I didn’t want to risk putting your ring back on you in case that hurt just as much…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He saw the ring on the carpet and picked it up, then angrily threw it away from him into a corner of the room. “That thing’s a mini torture device. I’d rather be hooked up to a </span>
  <em>
    <span>rack</span>
  </em>
  <span> than put it back on.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Brooklyn…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He lowered to sit cross-legged on the floor, his wings folded around him, leaning his cheek against his hand. “I know. I have to put it on so we can rescue Elisa.” His shoulders slumped, probably imagining having to endure the transformation again in a few hours.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I reached towards him, lifting his head up so he would look at me. “Are you okay, Brooklyn? I mean, are you </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually</span>
  </em>
  <span> okay?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sighed, placing his hand over mine and nestling into my palm. “I’ll be okay. Besides, I’m ‘the tough one,’ remember?” He smirked, looking more like himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> I raised my eyebrows. “Oh, right, how could I forget?” I smiled at him, my heart warm with affection for the strong, sarcastic, and sometimes vulnerable person sitting in front of me. I leaned forward to plant a kiss on his forehead, this time my lips touching warm skin instead of rough stone. “I love you, ‘tough guy.’”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I love you, too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I glanced at the darkening windows. “We’ve got a few hours until we need to go get ready for the party. Are you hungry for dinner?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What if I wanted dessert first?” He grinned, the last bit of light blue sky retreating to the horizon.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0041"><h2>41. Forty One*</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Brooklyn and Melissa spend the early evening together.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Remember, * means /sexy stuff!/ No major plot points if you'd rather skip!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Dessert first? I don’t remember seeing anything sweet in the kitchen...I think whoever really lives here is probably a health fanatic. We could make something, if they’ve got a cookbo-”</p><p> </p><p>He burst into a fit of laughter, laughing so hard that he doubled over. I had to shift back to avoid his horns.</p><p> </p><p>“What’s so...<em> ohhhhhhh </em> …” I realized what he <em> actually </em> meant. I felt my face grow hot, embarrassed that I had been so dense. “ <em> I’m </em>the dessert, aren’t I?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh <em> man </em> ! I guess that was <em> too </em> subtle, huh?” He sat up and leaned back with his hands behind him, still laughing. The sun had just gone down, the room growing dimmer.</p><p> </p><p>“Ha-<em> ha </em>, very funny,” I said, petulant and embarrassed.</p><p> </p><p>“Come on, Melissa! You’ve got to admit that <em> was </em> funny.” In the dimming light I could see a goofy smile on his face. “And cute.”</p><p> </p><p>“‘Cute,’ huh?” I moved forward, almost crawling, and placed my hands on the floor near his so I could lean over him, whispering in his ear. “I can work with ‘cute.’” I turned my head to kiss his neck, and he let his head loll back, closing his eyes. I trailed kisses up and down his neck, across his collarbones and shoulders, sometimes chaste and gentle, sometimes lightly biting or licking.</p><p> </p><p>“Now <em> that </em>...feels good…” He sighed happily, a purr starting in his throat.</p><p> </p><p>“Being back in your skin? Or this?” I asked softly, between kisses.</p><p> </p><p>“Both.” He gasped as I bit the bend between his neck and shoulder, then sighed when my tongue circled the bite, soothing it. “Definitely both.”</p><p> </p><p>I leaned in to quasi-kiss him, hands deep in his hair. I shifted forward so I was kneeling over him, lowering into his lap and rubbing my groin against his, stimulating his slit, trying to coax his phallus out.</p><p> </p><p>His tongue burrowed deep into my mouth, making me moan. “Ah, I <em> really </em> missed that,” I sighed after he removed his tongue from my mouth to run it along my neck. He purred deeply, sending vibrations throughout my chest and stomach as he slipped his tongue back into my mouth.</p><p> </p><p>I rocked my hips forward and back, massaging us together, encouraged by the insistence of his tongue caressing mine. He pressed his hand into the spot on my lower back, amplifying the pleasure I was sinking into with each roll of my hips. His other hand dug through my hair, pulling me closer into his quasi-kiss, his tongue filling my mouth.</p><p> </p><p>I leaned against his chest, my hands reaching behind him so I could lean my weight into the heels of my hands on the carpet. I pushed him down, settling my body over his as he rolled back to lie out on the carpet, his wings outstretched on either side. The rolls of my hips kept pressing us together, and with the hand he had on my lower back he pushed me even lower, increasing the pressure on my clitoris and vulva.</p><p> </p><p>He broke away from our quasi-kiss, panting as I trailed kisses along his skin again. I made my way to his chest, then his stomach, further and further down, making landmarks on his skin with my tongue and with my teeth. I traveled lower and lower, trailing my hands down his torso on the way to the waistband of the athletic shorts he had put on for his transformation.</p><p> </p><p>I tugged at his shorts, pulling them off of him and getting caught on the talons of his heels. The shorts ripped a little, and neither of us cared. With them out of the way, I could see the tip of his deep burgundy phallus beginning to emerge from his slit. I ran my hands up his thighs as I settled myself over him again, starting with his ears this time and working my way down again. He sighed, arms splayed out carelessly above his head.</p><p> </p><p>By the time I got to his lower stomach, his phallus had fully emerged. I kissed down the center of his lower stomach with exaggerated slowness, hands sliding along his chest to his stomach. He squirmed as I took my time.</p><p> </p><p>I stretched out, laying on my stomach so I was between his legs, arms snaking under his thighs, hands skimming his sides to reach his stomach, pulling his hips into my chest. I slid my hands down to just above where his slit started, fingers spread wide to cover more area, feeling the rumbles of his purr even this far down.</p><p> </p><p>I tilted my head to the side, lips close to his erection, eyes on him. He leaned up on his elbows to stare back at me, eyes half-closed.</p><p> </p><p>“Is this okay?” I asked with a smile. He nodded eagerly. “Hmmm, are you <em> sure </em>?” I kissed the skin near the side of his slit, waiting.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Yes </em>,” he panted, talons digging into the carpet in anticipation.</p><p> </p><p>I turned to the other side, leisurely kissing along his inner thigh, a mischievous smile on my lips as he half-groaned, half-moaned. I stroked my fingers along the inner thigh of his other leg.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Melissa </em> , come <em> on </em>…” Part chide, part plea.</p><p> </p><p>I turned back towards his erection, unhurried, eyes staying locked with his.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Please </em> ...” Eager, yearning, <em> aching </em>.</p><p> </p><p>I smiled and tilted my head, locking my lips to the underside of his erection, near the base, making circles with the tip of my tongue as I gently sucked.</p><p> </p><p>“Hhaaah<em> , </em> mmMMMm <em> , </em>aaaaaaahhh!” He gasped and moaned, louder and more often than I had ever heard him. I added languid strokes from my fingertips along his inner thighs, making them twitch and tremble. I could hear his talons rip the carpet.</p><p> </p><p>I dragged my mouth along his shaft towards the tip, continuing to suck and lick. I heard the carpet ripping more underneath a new surge of moans and sighs. I moved my arms from under his thighs to on top of them, holding them down and framing his erection’s base with my thumbs and forefingers, hands spread, fingers stroking his stomach and the skin surrounding his slit. </p><p> </p><p>He curled his tail under my arm, wrapping it around and down my back, across my lower stomach, and in the crease between my seat and my thigh, the end just brushing up against the bottom of my labia. Each time his thighs twitched, his tail constricted and released, the pressure making my heart jump and my blood rush. He seemed to have done it unconsciously, unaware that I started moaning each time his tail tightened, too enthralled in his own carnal sensations.</p><p> </p><p>I lifted my mouth off of his shaft and raised my head up, lips poised above the tip, beginning to pant from his tail’s squeezes. “Is <em> this </em> okay?”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> YesyesYES </em>!” I felt the muscles in his thighs tense, his tail constricting again, a sigh slipping from my lips before I wrapped them around the tip of his erection, sucking hard, licking lightly.</p><p> </p><p>“Mmmmmhhhhnnnn<em> , </em> aaaaaahhhhhh <em> , haaaaaaahh! </em>” He arched his back, trying to thrust his hips up, my arms holding him down instead.</p><p> </p><p>I sucked as I lifted my head, my lips making a wet pop as I pulled away. My fingers stroked his lower stomach, teasing around his slit. “Patience, Brooklyn. I want to give you the <em> full </em> experience.”</p><p> </p><p>He raised his arms above his head, clutching his elbows and burying his face in one of his biceps. “I d-don’t know if, I’ll m-make it, the whole way.”</p><p> </p><p>“You did all the work for <em> me </em> this morning. It’s my turn to do the same for <em> you </em>.” I used the tip of my tongue to ever-so-lightly lick the underside of his tip, making him gasp. “Ready to keep going?”</p><p> </p><p>“Aahh, <em> yesss </em>!”</p><p> </p><p>When we had joined the night before last, I had only <em> felt </em> his phallus, barely seeing the tip before it retracted into his slit. Up until now, I had kept my eyes on him, drinking in his reactions to my touches and kisses, making sure he was enjoying himself. Now, I could finally study his erected phallus as I thought of what to do next.</p><p> </p><p>His phallus was a deep burgundy, the color of his under-wings, switching to a red so dark it almost looked black just before disappearing into his slit. There seemed to be a knot of muscle just underneath his slit, about the size of my palm, most likely the true base of his erection. The rest of his phallus outside of the slit was long enough to extend halfway up the palm of my top hand if I were to stack my hands one over the other around his phallus (a possible action for tonight). Above the opening of the slit sat a thick, flat ring of burgundy flesh the width of my finger, perhaps a secondary base to stabilize him when he was erect. From the ring forward, his girth gently increased to a swell halfway up his shaft, the bulk of his width along the underside of his phallus, tapering back down towards the tip. Three sections of muscle lined his shaft, each muscle creating two separate ridges on the top and underneath of his phallus. The muscles were similar in shape to a flower’s petals, most likely ‘opening’ to allow his phallus to ‘grow’ out and up when erect, then ‘closing’ and nesting in concentric circles when retracted. His tip emerged an inch and a half from the last set of petal-like muscles, more bulbous towards the top of the tip, the bottom following the slope of the rest of his phallus. I could see a small pucker of skin just below the center of the tip, an opening for fluid to pump out of if we were mating instead of just joining. It also seemed to have its own bio-lubrication, welling up along the edges of the petal-like muscles, another detail I had missed - but greatly appreciated - the other night.</p><p> </p><p>He shifted and wriggled, sighing impatiently, making me giggle. “Any requests, Brooklyn?” </p><p> </p><p>He leaned up on his elbow and reached his hand forward. “Give me your hand.”</p><p> </p><p>He wrapped my hand around his erection, his hand on top of mine. He squeezed lightly, tightening my hand around him, his natural lubrication coating my hand. “About, mmmn, this tight.” He pulled up and down, stroking himself with my hand more slowly than I would have thought, the lubrication spreading along his erection. “And this fast….mmmmmmmnnn…” He released my hand, flopping back and sighing.</p><p> </p><p>I smiled. “So you <em> do </em> like to take your time…” </p><p> </p><p>“It’s, haaaaah, j-just sensitive, mnnn, doesn’t take m-much…” He moaned as I ran my tongue up and around his tip.</p><p> </p><p>I caressed him slowly and lightly, sucking his tip at random, making him gasp each time. With each gasp he constricted his tail, the pressure powerful around my core. The end of his tail pressed lightly against my labia, unintentionally teasing and exciting me. </p><p> </p><p>I sucked at his tip again, then slid my mouth down as far as I could without my teeth getting accidentally involved, continuing to stroke the rest of his shaft. When we quasi-kissed, his tongue easily fit in and filled my mouth. But his tongue was, of course, slimmer than his phallus. I wasn’t going to be able to get the same depth with his erection, and if he was as sensitive as he seemed, teeth would probably not be welcome in this activity.</p><p> </p><p>“Gggghhhh<em> , </em> haaaaaaAAA, MMmnmmmm! <em> ” </em>He didn’t seem to mind the shallower depth. I kept the slow pace and light touch he had shown me, even as he squirmed and moaned more and more. He was close.</p><p> </p><p>“Wait wait<em> wait wait WAIT</em>!” He sat up quickly, hand grabbing my wrist to stop my stroking. I slid my mouth off of him.</p><p> </p><p>“What’s wrong?” I could still feel his thighs twitching, his tail constricting, still in the moment, so why had he stopped me?</p><p> </p><p>“I want to, finish with <em> you </em>, not your, hand or mouth.” He was panting hard, much closer to climaxing than I had realized.</p><p> </p><p>I flipped over and sat up, shoving and kicking my pants and underwear off, then flipping back over. I planted my knees on either side of his hips and grabbed his shoulders, pushing him to lie back. He looked up at me, feverish desire in his eyes, stoking my own desire in return. Heat pulsed throughout my body and radiated off his.</p><p> </p><p>By now most of the sky through the windows was dark, the last light blue edges fading towards the horizon. The glow of the city’s lights peeked through the windows, shutting out the rest of the world, shrinking it down to just us, in this room, tangled together.</p><p> </p><p>I positioned myself above him. I was about to ask if he was ready, but he was already furiously nodding his head. “Yes, I’m ready, I’m <em>so</em> <em>ready</em>, Melissa, <em>Melissa</em>…” His hands grasped my thighs, talons lightly pricking at my skin. He’d waited long enough.</p><p> </p><p>I slid my hand down his chest, grasping the base of his erection, steadying it as I lowered my hips onto it.</p><p> </p><p>The tip entered easily, slipping between my labia. It pressed against my g-spot briefly as I continued pushing down, the edges of the first set of petal-like muscles just shy of filling my entrance. I placed my hands on the floor just above his shoulders, steadying myself.</p><p> </p><p>His hands slid up and gripped my hips hard. “Slow<em> , </em> aahhnn <em> , </em> go s-slower, let, mmmmhh, let me <em> feel </em> you.”</p><p> </p><p>I slowed, feeling the first ridges press into my inner walls, also passing over my g-spot as the tip slipped deeper. “Brooklyn, haahh, this feels <em> so good </em>, mmmmmh,” I sighed happily, focusing on the sensation of taking him into me slowly.</p><p> </p><p>The girth of his erection started filling my entrance, stretching me gently. The topside of his shaft rubbed against my clitoris while the girth along the underside of him pressed into me, a full feeling swelling inside of me. My entrance briefly resisted the second set of ridges, the entrance edges catching on them. I bit my lip, moaning quietly. Brooklyn reached up, placing his hand on my face, using his thumb to tug my bottom lip free of my teeth. “I want to hear, ahhhh, hear the s-sounds you make.”</p><p> </p><p>I panted, my mouth hanging open, moaning as I pressed myself down, my entrance giving way to the second set of ridges, stretching wide as I reached the thickest part of his erection, the pressure stinging a little. The bulk along the underside of his erection pressed into the bottom of my inner walls, filling me totally. </p><p> </p><p>The sting from my entrance being stretched was nothing compared to the warm fullness of him deep inside of me, thrilling and comforting me at the same time.</p><p> </p><p>“Brooklyn, aaaaaaaaahnn<em> , Brooklyn, </em> haaaah , this f-feels, aaah<em>, amazing!</em>”</p><p> </p><p>“Please<em> , please, keep going </em>!” He panted heavily, clutching at my thighs again.</p><p> </p><p>I slid my knees wider, lowering even more, the pressure around my entrance releasing as his phallus gently tapered in again, the fullness moving even deeper inside of me, his tip pressing towards my farthest reaches.</p><p> </p><p>“Just...a little more…” I tilted my head back as I sat up, skimming my fingertips down his chest and stomach, leveraging my weight to push myself down and take in the last few inches of him.</p><p> </p><p>My entrance stretched again to envelope the thick ring at the base of his erection, the lump behind his slit pressing up hard into my clit.</p><p> </p><p>“Haaaah<em> , </em> aaaah <em> , Brooklyn, </em> aaaaaahhh <em> , mmMMmmmm!” </em>I sighed and moaned, my inner walls clenched and fluttered around him, my clit pulsing. My climax surprised me, swiftly rushing through my body from deep within my core.</p><p> </p><p>Brooklyn thrust his hips up, sending another wave of euphoria through me. I pressed my hand to his lower stomach, stopping him. “Remember,” I said breathily, “<em> I’m </em> taking care of <em> you </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>I pulsed my hips, sliding myself up and down his shaft. My hand stayed splayed on his stomach, helping me balance, and I used my other hand to pull my hair out of my face so I could watch him.</p><p> </p><p>He tilted his hips up slightly, by instinct, and held on tightly to my thighs. He moaned with each panting breath, his hips bucking upwards when I clenched my muscles, tightening myself around him.</p><p> </p><p>“Melissa<em> , aahhnNN </em>!” He thrust up hard, pushing down on my hips, squeezing his eyes shut as he finally climaxed. He thrust up a few more times before submitting to his euphoria, arms and legs splaying out limply, chest heaving.</p><p> </p><p>I kept my hips flush to his, closing my eyes and feeling his phallus retract out of me. Small rushes of pleasure raced over me when the suction his fullness created tugged down at my inner walls. I felt his phallus grow slimmer as it withdrew, sighing when it was slender enough to release the suction with a squelch. </p><p> </p><p>I caught my breath until I no longer felt him inside of me, then slid to my side on the floor next to him. I rested my head on his shoulder and he put his arm around, folding his wings around us both. We held each other in the dusk-darkened room, stealing a few moments of happiness, with only the hazy city lights to see by.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Real talk, there was part of a line I had in here previously that I couldn't get out of my head, and I realized it was because I did NOT like it. I felt like it was jarring, like if I was reading this out loud that line was the point where I'd bust out laughing, instead of it being sexy the whole way through. So I've gone in and changed it, and now I feel much better about it!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0042"><h2>42. Forty Two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Painful transformations and cheesy calzones.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I’m scared about tonight’s party,” I whispered.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Admitting my fear was so much easier when we were lying on the floor and whispering in a dim room wrapped in each other’s arms.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Me too,” he whispered back, tightening his arms and wings around me. “But we’re going to find Elisa, and rescue her, and maybe even kick some ass on the way.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I rested my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. He began purring lightly, and I nearly fell asleep, warm and secure in his embrace.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Melissa, we’ve gotta get up and get going,” he said gently. “Come on.” He stood up, pulling me up with him and chuckling at my protests.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fine. But we’ve <em> got </em> to get dinner before we get to Xanatos’ place.” I slipped back into my pants and flipped on a few of the room’s lamps. “How do you feel about Italian food? I’m really in the mood for spaghetti and meatballs, or maybe a calzone. How does that sound? Brooklyn?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Brooklyn had retrieved his ring from the corner of the room he had flung it towards, staring at it resting on the palm of his hand. “I have to put this back on.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>I walked over to him, leaning my head on his shoulder. “You don’t have to put it on <em> right now </em>, though. If you don’t want to.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He shook his head. “I’d rather get it over with. Will you stay with me, like you did this morning?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Of course,” I said softly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He stared at the ring, not moving. “It’s going to hurt. And I won’t have stone sleep.” His voice cracked a little. “I’ll be totally conscious the whole time.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I felt queasy, imagining the snapping sounds from this morning. And if I was queasy just thinking about it…</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Brooklyn must have been <em> terrified </em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Do you think there’s anything we - <em> I </em> - can do, to make it easier?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Just stay with me. I’d feel better knowing you were right here. Unless it’s...too much to watch?” He must have noticed the nauseous look on my face.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I took his face in my hands, leaning my forehead against his. “My comfort during your transformation is the <em> last thing </em> you should be worrying about. I’ll be right by your side. Maybe with a trash can right by <em> my </em> side.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He chuckled half-heartedly. “Guess that’s fair.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Good. Let’s see,” I turned around and surveyed the room. “Maybe you should lie down on the bed? Being able to stretch out on a soft surface could help. <em> And </em> you should put these on before you transform.” I walked over to the duffel bag with Brooklyn’s human clothes and pulled out a clean pair of boxers.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Okay, <em> why </em>?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You told me this morning that being in your human form was unfamiliar and uncomfortable, and that being ‘exposed’ made that <em> worse </em>. Starting off in your human form with something on could help, too.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He sighed. “I wish they fit like the under-layer from my kilt.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I snapped my fingers. “Then let’s use that! It should be dry by now...Where’s the top part of your kilt, anyways?” I called over my shoulder as I went into the bathroom to retrieve the under layer from the heated towel rack, where we had hung our things to dry after bathing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I must have left it in the clock tower when Matt brought the lost-and-found clothes to me. Not sure <em> where </em> in the clock tower, though…I left my belt there, too.” I handed him the under-layer, then searched the duffel bag for a belt as he folded it around himself, using the belt to keep it in place.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He shook out his arms and wings, then did a few quick jabs in the air, psyching himself up. “Let’s <em> do </em> this!” He channeled his fear into determination and marched towards the bed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>We pushed all the pillows off the bed and dragged the comforter down, leaving just the flat sheet on the mattress. The less fabric he could catch his horns and talons on, the better. He laid down on his back, staring at the ceiling, while I sat cross legged by his side, facing him. I squeezed his hand and leaned down to kiss his forehead.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ll be right here the whole time,” I said to him, stroking his cheek.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He nodded but swallowed nervously. He held up the ring, looking at it. “See you on the other side.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He slipped the ring on his finger.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He started screaming in pain. The snapping began immediately, the wings in his back and the extra length in his legs cracking and creaking as they pulled into his body. His beak shrunk and contorted, and his horns sunk into his forehead. His skin shifted from red to pink to white, like the color was being drained out of him. He turned on his side away from me, curling into himself, his screaming muffled as he hid his face in his arms. I watched his spine writhe and compress underneath his skin, drawing his tail up, each new vertebra making a clicking sound as they stacked on top of each other.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The transformation stopped as quickly as it had started. Brooklyn stayed on his side, whimpering quietly. I stayed where I was on the bed, wanting so badly to hold him, but unsure that he wanted to be touched after so much pain.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“M-melissa?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m here, Brooklyn. I’m right here”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He turned onto his back slowly and looked at me. The determination from just a minute ago was completely gone, drained out of him like the color from his skin. He started to cry, tears I was all too familiar with: tears of panic, even though the danger had passed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He reached out to me with shaking arms, and I shifted so I was laying next to him, gently holding him, his head on my chest. I lightly stroked his hair as he choked out sobs, his arms around me without the strength to hold me.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s okay, you’re okay, I’m here.” I whispered various combinations of those words as he began to calm, recovering from the transformation.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His breathing slowed to an even pace and his tears ebbed away.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Calzones.” His voice was hoarse from his screams and his tears.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I smiled, a few tears of my own welling up. “Cheese or stromboli?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>- - -</p>
<p> </p>
<p>An hour later we went down to the parking garage to meet Owen. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Owen, how do you feel about calzones?” I asked, walking up to the car.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Good evening to you too, Miss Campbell, Brooklyn.” He nodded to us, then adjusted his glasses. “What’s this about calzones?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>We convinced Owen to use his mobile phone to call in an order for calzones from an Italian restaurant on the way to Xanatos’ complex. I insisted that he order one for himself as well, offering to pay. “As a thank you for indulging us,” I said with a smile.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Then I will order three double espressos, on me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Owen, that kind of defeats the whole ‘getting you something as a thank you’ thing.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The corners of his lips quirked up. “Perhaps, but we will need something to keep us awake for tonight, and if we’re stopping by an Italian restaurant, it would be a waste not to pick something up.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Owen, are you <em> smiling </em> ?” Brooklyn leaned over to me. “I have <em> never </em> seen him smile before,” he said in an exaggerated whisper.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Owen’s smile disappeared and he huffed. “We should be going.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And now it’s gone!” Brooklyn opened the car door for me. “That means six more weeks of winter, right?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Be <em> nice </em> ,” I said to him as I got into the car. “He’s taking us to get our calzones <em> and </em> he’s buying us espresso on top of it! And I bet Xanatos won’t be too pleased that we’ll be late?” I looked up into the rearview mirror, catching Owen’s eyes. He sighed and adjusted his glasses. “That’s a ‘yes.’”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Brooklyn rolled his eyes as he shut the door.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Seriously, thank you, Owen. I know you’re going out of your way <em> and </em> you’re risking Xanatos’ wrath.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Mr. Xanatos won’t be angry,” he replied as Brooklyn opened the door to the front passenger seat. “But he <em> will </em> be annoyed.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We can live with that if you can,” Brooklyn said, buckling his seatbelt.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Owen started the car without another word. I expected the radio to start up with jazz standards, but instead I heard a rough voice over rock guitar.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em> ...I don't give a damn 'bout my reputation, </em></p>
<p>
  <em> Never said I wanted to improve my station, </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> And I'm only doin' good when I'm havin' fun </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> And I don't have to please no one…” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Joan Jett? Owen, do you have a <em> rebellious side </em>?” Brooklyn teased, Owen sighing in return.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I smiled, but my heart twisted a little, thinking of how Jack would tease me anytime I did something slightly against the rules. I thought back to just a few days earlier, when I had tossed the ‘stealthily appropriate’ tie I had gotten for him at his head. I heard his response in my mind, “<em> You perfect little </em> punk <em> , you! </em>” I had just seen him and Clara yesterday evening, but it felt like a lifetime ago. Hopefully I would get to ‘come back from New Jersey’ soon and see them again. <em>After</em> we rescued Elisa.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Owen was as good as his word, and soon we each had an enormous half-moon calzone, filled with cheese, meat, and tomato sauce, as well as paper cups of dark espresso, strong and tasting slightly burned. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Owen paid the exorbitant fee and parked in a nondescript city parking garage so we could finish our meal in the car before going to Xanatos’ complex. When I asked him why, he replied, “You are still in hiding, Miss Campbell, so we can’t be out on the street. But if we went to the parking garage at the complex, we would be expected to go immediately to the office. And then I wouldn’t have time to eat.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re really letting your hair down, Owen,” Brooklyn said around a mouthful of molten cheese and tomato sauce. “You might be an overly-loyal tightwad with about as much emotion as a robot, but sometimes you almost seem human.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Almost as human as you are,” Owen quipped.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“A <em> comeback </em> ? Careful, I might actually start to <em> respect </em> you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Enough, you two.” I took a large gulp of my double espresso, trying to get past the bitterness as quickly as possible. “We’ve got to make it back so we can get ready for the party. Calzones and banter are great, but we’ve still got an NYPD detective to rescue.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They both nodded, and all of us finished up our meals, disposing of the evidence in the parking garage’s trash can. As we drove, Owen left the radio on the punk station, even tapping the stereo to the beat on one song. He was still Xanatos’ secretary, completely loyal to him, but there were layers underneath his austere exterior.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>We eventually made it to Xanatos’ complex, the silence in the car going from amiable to tense the nearer we got. We were getting closer and closer to the start of the party, to rescuing Elisa, and my nervousness was starting to get to me. The espresso, while keeping me awake, made that nervousness worse. Owen led us towards the office, but Brooklyn took my hand and pulled me aside before we went through the door. Owen paused and looked back at us, waiting.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Brooklyn took both my hands in his. “Melissa, this is it. When we walk through that door, there won’t be any going back. Things are going to happen <em> fast </em>, and we don’t totally know what we’re going up against. You’ll be running headfirst into unknown danger. Any second thoughts?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I took a deep breath. “I’m <em> terrified </em>.” Then I pulled him to me and kissed him deeply and fiercely. He kissed me back, arms wrapping around me tightly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Owen cleared his throat, and we broke apart. I turned to face the door, shoulders squared, head held high, hand trembling even as Brooklyn held it. “Let’s do this.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0043"><h2>43. Forty Three</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>What happened to Elisa?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> ~Seven Nights Ago~ </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The man stood on the fire escape, hidden by the shadows of the buildings around him. He leaned on the railing, using a lighter to start his cigarette. He stared at the flame for a second before flicking the lighter closed and putting it in his pocket. He inhaled deeply, eyes watching the entrance to the Civic Center.</p><p> </p><p>Two figures exited the Civic Center. The man grabbed the small binoculars hung around his neck and looked through them. Two women stood on the sidewalk in front of the door, talking. It was late enough that the sidewalk was relatively empty, giving him a clear line of sight to the women. From this far away, both women looked about the same. One was in a red jacket, the other was in a dress.</p><p> </p><p>He took another drag of his cigarette and dropped the binoculars, letting the strap on his neck catch them, and reached for a walkie-talkie.</p><p> </p><p>“There’s two,” he said into it.</p><p> </p><p><em> “Two? Two what?” </em> The voice that answered back belonged to a man with a nasally voice and a British accent, dripping with condescension.</p><p> </p><p>“Two women. Which one do you want?”</p><p> </p><p><em> “Describe them </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>The man sighed before pressing the button to answer. “They look the same from where I’m standing. One’s in a dress, one’s in a red jacket. Which one do you want?”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> You followed them from the library, correct </em>?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.” The man was annoyed. Usually collections went faster and more smoothly than this.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> And where are you, now? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“In front of the Civic Center. They were in there for a few hours. And they’re getting ready to split.” He watched the woman in the red jacket touch the arm of the woman in the dress, the other woman nodding in return.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> And </em> where <em> are they going </em>?” The voice sounded exasperated.</p><p> </p><p>“The red jacket’s going back into the Center, the dress is going down the sidewalk.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Woman in a red jacket, going into the Civic Center, hmmm…” </em> The man waited as the voice paused. He took another drag of his cigarette, long and deep, the falling ash swept away quickly by the night breeze.</p><p> </p><p>“The dress is heading the direction that I’m <em> supposed </em> to go,” he said into the walkie-talkie, forcing the smoke through his nostrils.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Nevermind that, you’re </em> supposed <em> to go where and do what I tell you to!” </em></p><p> </p><p>“Then what are my orders, <em> Doc </em>?” The man growled.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> The woman in the red jacket. Bring her to me. Forget the other one </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“Fine by me, Doc.” The ember of the end of his cigarette glowed as he inhaled again.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Don’t call me ‘Doc,’ you impudent </em> buffoon!” The voice was infuriated. The man smiled. “ <em> Just bring her to me. And use her identification card to get her address, I’m far too busy to look it up for you </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“What about the picture?” The man had to ask, since the Doc had changed his target just before the grab.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Look for a picture of a statue </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“A statue?” The man asked aloud, without pressing the button to broadcast his curiosity to the voice on the other end.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> A statue of a gargoyle, </em>” the voice finished. The man could hear a smile underneath the voice’s condescension. The voice started cackling before the walkie talkie clicked off.</p><p> </p><p>The man sighed and finished off his cigarette, flicking the spent end into the alleyway below. He took out another cigarette and lit it, eyes trained back on the Civic Center entrance. “A picture of a statue of a gargoyle. Huh.”</p><p> </p><p>He waited.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> ~Five Nights Ago~ </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Elisa blinked slowly, eyes adjusting to the dim light of the room. She groaned as she felt the aches and pains all over her body.</p><p> </p><p>“What happened?” She looked around and saw that she was in a small, square room made of cinderblocks. The walls were painted over with a light color, smoothing out the cinderblocks and the mortar holding them together. Thin windows, each the size of an envelope, set in the very top of the wall, let a little light in. She was laying on a metal-frame bed with a thin mattress. </p><p> </p><p>Elisa sat up on the bed, wincing as she felt every strained muscle and achy joint. She looked up at the windows. “Those walls must be fifteen feet high, at least. And I definitely won’t be able to fit through those windows, even if I <em> could </em> get to them. Must be about dusk...”</p><p> </p><p>She looked around the room again, noticing more details. Her room - her <em> prison </em> - had some decidedly non-prison-like furnishings. While the metal bed and thin mattress reminded her of the holding cells in the precinct, the bed was done up with a thick, warm blanket, crisp, clean sheets, and two plump pillows. Next to the table was a short wooden table to serve as a night stand. Above the table, a lamp was set into the wall. It was the perfect height for reading in bed. Elisa reached over and twisted a knob at the top of the lamp’s metal shade, turning on and illuminating the rest of the small prison cell with a warm glow. She was able to crane the lamp’s head around a little, so that light reached all the corners of the room.</p><p> </p><p>There was no door. At least, not one that Elisa could see.</p><p> </p><p>The lamplight showed a wooden table and chair in one corner, solid and well taken care of. A porcelain sink with a mirror occupied another corner of the room, a metal toilet next to it. There was nothing to provide any separation - or privacy - from the rest of the room. “Glad to see that’s still a staple of prison cell interior design.”</p><p> </p><p>Elisa set her feet on the ground, looking down to find a multicolored braided rug covering the concrete floor. All of the homey touches of the prison cell seemed like they were meant to make the occupant more comfortable. Instead, it set Elisa even more on edge.</p><p> </p><p>On the table was a large metal tray with a covered plate, silverware, a cloth napkin, and a glass of amber liquid. A tented sign sat on top of the covered plate, with “Enjoy your stay!” written in cursive across the front. “I’ve been kidnapped by someone with a sense of humor. Great.”</p><p> </p><p>She was sure she had been kidnapped. She still felt foggy after waking up, and she wasn’t sure how much time had gone by. Her regular clothes, including her red leather jacket, were gone. She was dressed in a plain white shirt and pants, similar to what nurses and doctors wore, with slip-on canvas shoes. Each piece of clothing was marked with the same number: 029347. She ached all over, but her elbow was particularly sore. She looked down and saw a large bruise in the crook of her elbow, as if someone had botched taking a blood sample. “Or maybe they’ve taken a <em> lot </em> of blood,” she said worriedly, gently poking at the bruise. </p><p> </p><p>She noticed her fingertips were slightly discolored, darkened with dirt or even…”Ink. For fingerprinting.” She felt her head for a lump but didn’t find one, so they hadn’t knocked her out when they took her. They must have kept her sedated instead.</p><p> </p><p>She sat in the chair at the table and picked up the tented paper sign, trying to think back to the last thing she remembered. After Melissa had gone, Elisa had returned to the gargoyles in the clock tower, then went with Matt to investigate and stop several late-night robberies - with gargoyle assistance - until the early morning. It was a few minutes before sunrise when Elisa got in her car to drive home.</p><p> </p><p>Something had happened on the way back to her apartment. She had seen something…</p><p> </p><p><em> The car was on its side, smashed into a fire hydrant that was spouting water into the street. Skidmarks showed where the driver had lost control, and debris had shown exactly where the car had flipped. Elisa pulled over, getting out of her car and running to the wreck. She was the only one there. Even though it was late at night, there </em> should <em> have been people on the street, or cars driving by, or someone looking through a window. But she was alone. She had gotten to the car and looked through the cracked windshield. No one was in the car. </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> She didn’t have time to be confused. A gloved hand reached from behind her and clamped over her mouth and nose, a cloth pressed firmly against her face. It smelled sweet but manufactured, like candy perfume. She felt woozy, legs starting to go weak, but had jabbed her elbow back into her assailant’s chest and tried to stomp on his foot. The next thing she felt was a hot, searing pain in her side, making her go rigid. Then, nothing. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Elisa lifted her shirt and looked down at her side. She saw two angry red marks, a few inches apart. It looked like ointment had been applied to the marks. They had chloroformed and tased her, then kept her sedated while they took her blood and fingerprints.</p><p> </p><p>“Now the question is, how long was I out?” Elisa looked up at the windows again when suddenly more lights came on, and a voice drifted down from the ceiling.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Good evening, Detective Maza! Did you sleep well? </em>” The voice was deep and distorted, but calm, almost conversational.</p><p> </p><p>“What do you want with me?!” Elisa yelled up at the ceiling, scanning it for the source of the voice. Recessed lights protected by glass covers dotted the ceiling, and between them she could just make out a speaker and a glass half-sphere with a blinking red light behind it. A video camera.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> You’re here to help us, Detectie Maza. We’ve got some experiments that we would really </em> love <em> your help with </em>.” The voice sounded delighted.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m <em> not </em> helping you with any experiments, whoever you are!” She stood up so fast that the chair fell over behind her.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Oh, I’m sorry, Detective Maza. You really don’t have any choice in the matter. Now eat up and get a good night’s rest! We begin tomorrow. Sweet dreams! </em>” The lights dimmed out, leaving only the reading light on.</p><p> </p><p>“How do I know this isn’t poisoned?!” Elisa yelled at the dark ceiling. She got no response.</p><p> </p><p>She righted the chair and sat back at the table, lifting the cover off the plate. Chicken breast, steamed vegetables, and a baked potato with a small square of butter. She sniffed the glass of amber liquid, realizing it was apple juice.</p><p> </p><p>She stared at the meal for a beat, then picked up the silverware, laying the cloth napkin in her lap. “Might as well keep up my strength.” She speared a steamed carrot and bit into it. She made a face. “Ugh, <em> no </em> seasonings? Not even salt? I’d rather it be poisoned.”</p><p> </p><p>She rolled her eyes, feeling silly for complaining out loud. She stopped short when she spied the small framed photograph on the table. She picked it up and looked at it, her blood running cold.</p><p> </p><p>It was her picture of Goliath in his stone sleep. The picture that <em> should </em> have been on her windowsill in her apartment.</p><p> </p><p>She laid back down in the bed, hugging the picture frame to her chest, the food on the table going cold.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> ~Four Days Ago~ </em>
</p><p> </p><p>A gentle sound, like windchimes, woke Elisa up from her fitful sleep. She was disoriented for a few seconds, then remembered where she was. She looked at the photograph of Goliath again, then gently set it on the bedside table.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Good morning, Detective Maza! I see you didn’t eat your dinner yesterday. Better eat up your breakfast, then! You’ve got a </em> long <em> day ahead of you! </em>”</p><p> </p><p>The voice was back. Elisa glared at the ceiling, then looked at the table. The dinner from last night was gone, replaced by a new covered plate, a small glass of orange juice, and a mug of coffee. She lifted the new cover to find two eggs, a thick slice of toast, and a bowl of yogurt with granola and strawberries.</p><p> </p><p>“If I didn’t know any better,” she said grumpily to the ceiling, “I’d say I’ve been involuntarily committed to a health retreat.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Sorry, Detective Maza, but you won’t get any information that way! You have twenty minutes to finish your breakfast and wash up. Enjoy! </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“How am I supposed to know when twenty minutes is up, you took my watch!” Elisa yelled angrily. She got no reply. </p><p> </p><p>She ate the whole meal, deciding to chance whatever they put in the food. She was going to need to stay alert so she could look for a way out of wherever she was. She brushed her teeth with the supplies she found on the vanity. They hadn’t been there the night before.</p><p> </p><p>Elisa guessed that about twenty minutes had gone by when she heard a hissing sound. “What the -?!” She looked up at the ceiling, watching gas leak out of the lights. She grabbed the tray off of the table, shattering the empty plate and cups on the floor as she used it to fan the gas away from her.</p><p> </p><p>“Dammit, there’s too much of it!”</p><p> </p><p>Elisa started coughing, feeling herself grow dizzy and weak. She dropped the tray and fell to the floor, fighting to stay awake. People entered the room, but she couldn’t tell where they had entered from. She blinked up at a figure looming over her, her eyelids heavy. All she could see before she blacked out was yellow and red eyes, and long, sharp teeth.</p><p> </p><p>She woke up some time later, lying on dirt and grass, with sunshine glittering through leafy treetops. She raised her head and looked around, seeing several other figures in white beginning to rouse, too.</p><p> </p><p>“Where are we?” Elisa groaned, sitting up slowly.</p><p> </p><p>“They call it ‘Zebolim,’” a voice near her answered. Elisa looked over to see a woman with long, poofy brown-black hair sitting up, looking at her. Her skin was the color of toasted cinnamon, but dull and sallow. She had a wide nose and a round face, her dark, round eyes shining from underneath thick black brows. The woman stood up and came over to offer Elisa a hand up. “The City of Pestilence.”</p><p> </p><p>“How did we get here?” The woman looked at Elisa sadly, shaking her head. Her clothing was tagged with the number 35734.</p><p> </p><p>“We don’t know. They make sure we’re asleep for the trip from our rooms to here.” The woman was shorter than Elisa, with wide hips and shoulders. Elisa saw that despite the thickness of the woman’s arms, her skin hung loose, like she had once been plump but had been forced to quickly drop the weight. “You’re new.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, name’s Elisa.” The woman began walking between the trees, waving for Elisa to follow her. “What’d you say this place was called? Zey-?”</p><p> </p><p>“Zebolim, the City of Pestilence. And you’re its newest resident.” She continued picking her way through the trees, although Elisa couldn’t tell whether they were heading further into the forest or away from it.</p><p> </p><p>“And you’re, what, the welcoming committee? Are we on our way to a Town Hall meeting?”</p><p> </p><p>“We’re on our way to get whatever today’s experiment is over with.” More people were appearing, all walking towards the same point between the trees. “Trust me, you’ll see soon enough.”</p><p> </p><p>The trees gave way to what looked like a ghost town. Bright white buildings sat between paved streets that led to nowhere. Some of the buildings looked like houses, some like stores, even churches and movie theatres. The streets were complete with lamp posts, signs, and traffic lights. In the center of the husk town was a large flat platform. Tin boxes, each with a number on them, rested on the platform.</p><p> </p><p>Their fellow captives began picking up boxes off the platform, reading the numbers and handing them to other captives. The woman who had helped Elisa up walked over with two tin boxes, handing the one marked ‘029347’ to Elisa, her own box with ‘35734’ tucked under her arm.</p><p> </p><p>“Open the box, read the instructions, then do everything that the instructions say. And if you hear anyone over the loudspeaker, follow whatever instructions they give, even if it’s different from the instructions in there.” She pointed to Elisa’s tin box, then opened her own.</p><p> </p><p>Elisa opened the tin box to see a stoppered vial filled with a sludgy purple liquid, surrounded by a foam form to keep it steady, and two printed pieces of paper. On one were instructions:</p><p> </p><ol>
<li><em>Drink the liquid in the vial. Place the vial back in the box. Place the box back on the platform.</em></li>
<li>
<p><em>For the next twelve hours, live in Zebolim as your assigned townsperson.</em></p>
</li>
<li>
<p><em>When the bell tolls, return to the platform and retrieve your numbered box.</em></p>
</li>
<li>
<p><em>Deposit a saliva sample into the empty vial, drink the contents of the full vial, then return the box to the platform.</em></p>
</li>
<li>
<p><em>Return to the woods.</em></p>
</li>
</ol><p> </p><p>On another piece of paper in the box, Elisa found her ‘assigned townsperson’ information card:</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Name: Janice </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Occupation: Grocer </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Home: 10 Zebolim Avenue </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Relationships: None </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“What does this mean?” Elisa looked over at the woman to see that she was finishing off the contents of her own vial, replacing it in the foam cushion. “What are you doing?! Don’t drink that!”</p><p> </p><p>The woman shook her head. “We have to. <em> You </em> might get some leniency because you’re new, but <em> we </em> won’t. Drink the vial, follow the rest of the instructions, and <em> play along </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Elisa looked at the woman in shock, then at the other people around the platform. Most of the others were walking away from the platform, information cards in their hands.</p><p> </p><p>“What happens to the people who <em> don’t </em> play along?” Elisa asked the woman.</p><p> </p><p>“They disappear, and they don’t come back. But that’s all I know. Now drink up, then I’ll help you get settled as your townsperson.”</p><p> </p><p>Elisa took out the vial and uncorked it, smelling the sludgy purple liquid. It smelled like tar and sulfur, making Elisa gag. She looked at the woman, then squeezed her eyes shut and tossed back the liquid. It tasted as awful as it smelled, but Elisa forced it down.</p><p> </p><p>She handed the woman her townsperson card while she repacked her box and placed it on the platform.</p><p> </p><p>“Should we start with where ‘Janice’ lives?”</p><p> </p><p>The woman nodded, a very small smile on her lips. “Sounds like a plan.”</p><p> </p><p>“So what’s your name?” Elisa asked the woman, following her down one of the asphalt streets.</p><p> </p><p>“My townsperson name is…” She studied the card. “‘Holly.’ But <em> my </em> name is Fatimah.” She spread her arms out before her. “Welcome to Hell.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> ~Two Days Ago~ </em>
</p><p> </p><p>It was the third day that Elisa was playing ‘Janice the Grocer’ in Zebolim. That first day, they discovered that Fatimah’s townsperson 'Holly' happened to be the baker in the Zebolim Food Mart where 'Janice' worked. Elisa had read the instructions left at the cash register for how the ZFM should operate and begrudgingly followed them at Fatimah’s ‘encouragement.’ The grocery store was stocked with fake, plastic food, and the captives came in as their various townsperson personas to spend fake money on that fake food. On their ‘lunch break,’ Elisa had sat with Fatimah, eating the lunches from new tin boxes that appeared from the platform, learning more about what they were doing here.</p><p> </p><p>“Here's the best that I can tell,” Fatimah had said. “We’ve been kidnapped by some very unethical, very twisted people who have thought very carefully about how to control us and experiment on us. In these experiments, it’s mostly the same group of people, although sometimes people disappear, and new ones appear, like you did. One experiment will go on for however long they want, usually weeks, then switch to a new one. The second vial we drink at the end of the day is a sedative, so we fall unconscious as we go through the woods, then we wake back up in our rooms just in time for dinner. Disobedience means disappearing.” Fatimah had shaken her finger to emphasize her point.</p><p> </p><p>The next day’s lunch break, Elisa learned a little more about Fatimah. She had been a captive at Zebolim for years. “At least three, according to the change in seasons.” She had been taken in the evening, waiting at the bus stop near her apartment.</p><p> </p><p>“I was going to Central Park to meet a patron,” she said, shaking her head. “They had talked to me at the Reference Desk, and convinced me that I should meet them that night so they could show me an old manuscript that they were thinking about donating. Then someone just came up, put a cloth over my face, and the next thing I knew, I woke up here.”</p><p> </p><p>“You know, I got taken on the way back to my apartment from the Civic Center, but I had been in the Main Branch just that day…”</p><p> </p><p>Fatimah had huffed. “Guess someone’s hot for librarians, and mistook you for one.” She had gotten quiet. “Any chance you met a librarian named Clara Reynolds?”</p><p> </p><p>Elisa shook her head. “No, I talked with Melissa Campbell.”</p><p> </p><p>“Must have been after I...came here…”</p><p> </p><p>“Who’s Clara?”</p><p> </p><p>“She’s my picture.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’ve got a picture, too?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes. Everyone does. I can’t tell if it’s a nice gesture, or if it’s a reminder of who we’ll never see again. Mostly everyone’s picture is of someone they love. Clara’s my wife.” Fatimah had smiled. “It’s her graduation picture from getting her master’s degree. Blue background, a piece of her tassel stuck to her hair, a smile that could outshine the sun. I kiss her picture every night before I go to sleep.”</p><p> </p><p>“I hope you get to go back to her someday."</p><p> </p><p>“That’s the only thing that keeps me going: getting back to her.” Fatimah wiped at her eyes and sniffed. “Who’s your picture?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, mine is of Goliath, my…” Elisa hesitated. “You know, I don’t quite know what he is to me…”</p><p> </p><p>Fatimah had patted Elisa’s arm. “I hope you get to go back to him and find out.”</p><p> </p><p>“How do they know which picture to take?”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know. But everyone’s picture is of someone they love, whatever 'love' means to them. That's too consistent to be a coincidence.”</p><p> </p><p>Today was exactly like the last two days. At the lunch break, Elisa finally asked Fatimah about escaping.</p><p> </p><p>“There’s got to be a way, right?”</p><p> </p><p>“No.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> No </em>?” Elisa was surprised. Fatimah had more spirit and energy than any of the other captives Elisa had tried talking to. She was sure Fatimah would have ideas, or would at least be on-board to try to escape.</p><p> </p><p>“No. I have tried to escape every way I could that <em> wouldn’t </em> get me killed, and I have seen too many others try to escape in ways that either <em> did </em> get them killed, or got them ‘disappeared.’ I will <em> not </em> let you do the same.”</p><p> </p><p>“So then what are we supposed to do?!” Elisa hissed. She had wanted to yell, but on the first day Fatimah had nodded to several cameras and microphones hidden throughout the fake town. Captives were allowed to talk to each other, but Fatimah cautioned that it was better to be careful.</p><p> </p><p>“We wait.”</p><p> </p><p>“It doesn’t seem like that’s worked so far.”</p><p> </p><p>“We <em> wait </em> , and we watch, and when either of us sees the <em> right </em> opportunity, we make a break for it. With or <em> without </em> the other person. Because if <em> one </em> of us gets free, we can get help.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I hope help comes soon.” Elisa looked up into the sky, wishing she could tell Goliath where she was. She wished…</p><p> </p><p>She wished so many things.</p><p> </p><p>“I care about Goliath. A lot.”</p><p> </p><p>Fatimah smiled knowingly, arching a dark eyebrow. “How much is ‘a lot,’ exactly?”</p><p> </p><p>Elisa laughed. “Enough to wish that I had told him that before I was captured.”</p><p> </p><p>Fatimah patted Elisa’s arm. “You’ll get a chance to. Just like I know I’ll see Clara again.”</p><p> </p><p>“But <em> how </em> do you know that?”</p><p> </p><p>“Hope, Elisa. I’ve got hope. Simple.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hope’s not a simple thing, Fatimah.”</p><p> </p><p>“It is.” Fatimah placed the empty tin box on the platform and stood up. “It’s just hard. No one ever said that ‘simple’ was the same as ‘easy.’”</p><p> </p><p>Elisa sighed and watched her friend walk towards the Zebolim Food Mart.</p><p> </p><p>“Hope.” She glanced at the sky again. “Simple as that.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0044"><h2>44. Forty Four</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Final makeovers, and the show finally gets on the road. To Hell.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Xanatos’ office was a hive of activity. Owen, Brooklyn, and I entered to see human-form Goliath at the temporary table, looking at various objects that Xanatos gestured to. The three stylists, Thomas, Evelyn, and Dev, were working on Hudson, Lexington, and Broadway with the precision and efficiency of backstage managers at Fashion Week. </p><p> </p><p>Thomas, looking much like he had yesterday but in a slightly different suit, had Hudson in a chair, sheet tied around his shoulders, trimming his hair and beard. Bronx sat next to Hudson’s chair, refusing to move for Thomas, while scratching and sneezing at the trimmed hairs that fell on him.</p><p> </p><p>Evelyn made the tiniest adjustments to Lexington’s suit and tie, standing back to look at him after each tweak. Instead of the short, finger-wave bob she sported yesterday, her hair today was longer, small spiral curls of lighter brown fanning out from a part to the side, bouncing with each movement of her head. She wore a suit that would have made Katherine Hepburn look underdressed, and lipstick that was the right shade of red to make her skin glow. Lexington, for his part, seemed to be enjoying Evelyn’s attention to detail, asking her questions, motioning to his shoes, his jacket, even practicing a few steps for Evelyn’s feedback on his walk. </p><p> </p><p>Dev was finishing putting the last bit of pomade on Broadway’s hair, smoothing it down and combing it back just like the 40’s detectives in the movies he loved so much. They still sported their Harrington jacket and combat boots, matching them tonight with a tight-fitting, low-cut black tank top, a long kilt-like skirt in red plaid, stopping at just below their knee to give way to black tights with holes torn artfully into them. The clothes would have made anyone else look shapeless and sloppy, but the way they fell over Dev’s willowy frame somehow looked both casual and elegant at the same time. They dropped the hat on top of Broadway’s head, stood back, and nodded, smacking Broadway’s hand away when he went to adjust it.</p><p> </p><p>Evelyn and Dev noticed us almost immediately. “You’re <em> late </em>!” Evelyn’s voice carried across the room dramatically. “We’ll just barely have time to get you ready!”</p><p> </p><p>“But we have almost an hour to get ready,” I called back.</p><p> </p><p>“Exactly!” She strided over to me, moving quickly on her dangerously high, dangerously thin stiletto heels. She tilted my head with her hand, scrutinizing my face. “I’ll have to work up to the very last second to get you ready!”</p><p> </p><p>Thomas looked up from Hudson, pausing his sharp scissor’s progress across Hudson’s beard. He mouthed “No, she won’t,” and rolled his eyes. I held back a snicker, making Evelyn narrow her eyes and look over her shoulder. Thomas had already resumed trimming Hudson’s beard, looking innocent.</p><p> </p><p>She huffed, not fooled by Thomas’ act, but took me by the shoulders and led me to an unoccupied chair, a plethora of makeup and brushes taking up every inch of a card table setup next to it. “Let’s get you into hair and makeup before we lose any more time.”</p><p> </p><p>Dev had nodded to Brooklyn, then shrugged their shoulder over to another unoccupied chair, giving one more look over Broadway. They tilted Broadway’s hat slightly, righted it, then walked over to Brooklyn. Broadway reached up to adjust the hat, stopping himself when Dev looked over their shoulder at him, glaring.</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe some humans <em>do</em> have eyes in the backs of their heads,” I heard Broadway say to himself.</p><p> </p><p>Evelyn carefully mixed various foundations, trying small spots on my face then wiping them away with a cotton pad soaked in some sort of makeup remover. Once she had concocted the perfect foundation, she started in on my makeup in earnest.</p><p> </p><p>I caught occasional glimpses of Dev and Brooklyn when Evelyn would duck to retrieve something from the card table. Dev pulled Broklyn’s hair back in sections, often going to stand in front of him to check their placement. After a surprising amount of time organizing placement of the sections, Dev stood behind Brooklyn and began plaiting his hair, Brooklyn wincing. Dev seemed to finish braiding Brooklyn’s hair quickly, grabbing some kind of hair product and smoothing it through the unbraided portions of his hair.</p><p> </p><p>Suddenly Evelyn grabbed my shoulders, pulling me out of the chair to steer me towards Thomas. “I’m afraid you’ll have to wait to see what your fiancé’s end result is, dear. We need to clean this up before I could possibly even <em> begin </em> on your hair.”</p><p> </p><p>Thomas examined my hair, then began cutting. My palms started sweating, unable to see exactly where and how much he was cutting, helplessly watching what looked to be a <em> lot </em> of my hair drift down to the sheet wrapped around me and onto a plastic mat underneath the chair. Thomas whipped the sheet off of me when he was done, hurrying me out of the seat. I nervously ran my hands through my hair, but didn’t feel any change. “Wait, what did you do?”</p><p> </p><p>“Not much, I just cleaned up your split ends, took out some of the bulk, etcetera, etcetera,” he explained calmly as he swept the hair into a neat pile. Without any mirrors in the room, I would have to take his word for it.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Now </em> I’ve got something to <em> work </em> with!” Evelyn was delighted with whatever Thomas had done, sitting me back down in her chair and pulling back my hair. She curled and twisted and pinned and sprayed my hair until she was satisfied. “ <em> There </em> we are!”</p><p> </p><p>She handed me a mirror, holding another up behind me so I could see the back. She had loosely pulled my hair back, a large, very loose braid drawing my hair to the side before becoming part of a swirl of hair, twirled so it looked like the sections disappeared into a bun. She artfully pulled a few pieces out from the updo, as if they had been blown loose by a wild breeze to gently curl down from my hairline. “Sensible but stylish,” she declared, adding one last spritz of hairspray. I also saw that she had chosen red lipstick and winged black eyeliner, buffing a dusty rose blush under my cheekbones, closer to the edges of my face. “Can’t go wrong with the 1950’s look,” she said with a smile. She hurried me into my dress and shoes, then gave me one last lookover.</p><p> </p><p>“Is everyone done with their disguises?” Xanatos called out, looking over towards Evelyn and I. </p><p> </p><p>Evelyn tsked and rolled her eyes. “Some people have no appreciation for art,” she said with a shake of her head, her curls swaying gently. She began packing up her things quickly, placing bottles and tubes and palettes just-so in her makeup kits and boxes.</p><p> </p><p>“Evelyn, thank you for everything,” I said sincerely. “I feel like a thousand bucks!”</p><p> </p><p>“Just one thousand?” She arched an eyebrow. “I’d price that look for at least one <em> million </em> , my dear.” Before she finished packing, she handed me a black velvet clutch, leaning in close to me. “Be careful tonight. I’m not sure <em> what </em> you’ve all gotten yourself into, but it appears to be much more dangerous than the <em> average </em> high society gathering.” She shouldered her arsenal of beauty supplies and glanced over towards Xanatos, who had turned back to the table where the others were gathered.</p><p> </p><p>I nodded to her. “We’ll be careful.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good.” She stood up and tossed her hair with a shake of her head, loudly saying “And don’t you <em> dare </em> ruin that dress! It’s much too fabulous on you.” She winked. “Tah-tah, my dear. Have fun.” Then she whisked through the office door, disappearing after Thomas and Dev. </p><p> </p><p>The sudden absence of the stylists was uncomfortable. It signaled the start of the rescue, the start of the danger.</p><p> </p><p>I stood next to Brooklyn by the table and studied his hair, admiring the job Dev had done. The look reminded me of the hairstyles used in Viking-themed operas, very loosely based on a scant few mentions of braided hair in ancient Danish, Irish, and Scottish texts and paintings. Surely inaccurate and overexaggerated, but it looked amazing on Brooklyn. His wild hair had been braided along the sides in three thick French braids on either side, leaving the top mostly unbraided but pulled back to join the last few turns of each braid where they stopped, at the very beginning of the back of his head, left to fall loose with the rest of his hair. A few braids of random sizes were interspersed in the lower half of his hair, which otherwise hung loose around his shoulders and down his back. Whatever product Dev had used at the end gave his loose hair a thick texture, as if we <em> hadn't </em> used an entire bottle of conditioner on it the night before. The hairstyle controlled his long mane without taming it, the epitome of Dev’s statement yesterday, “ <em> Don’t want to look like you tried </em> too <em> hard. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Brooklyn rolled the end of one of the braids between his fingers. “So? What d’you think?”</p><p> </p><p>“It looks great, roguish yet polished. Dev did a great job!” </p><p> </p><p>“I’m glad we got the tangles out of my hair <em> before </em> Dev got to it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, I saw you wincing.” I gave him a ‘told ya’ smile. “I went to enough slumber parties to learn that clean, untangled hair was <em> essential </em> for practicing French braids.”</p><p> </p><p>Xanatos cleared his throat. “If you two are done flirting, we need to get equipped then hurry to the jet. We don’t want to be late for the party, do we?”</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t wait for a response to continue. “First, everyone gets a mobile phone. They already have each other’s numbers programmed into them, with GPS chips so we can find each other, even if we can’t use the phones.” The phones sat on pieces of paper with each of our names on them. “However, it’s unlikely that we’ll actually be allowed to have phones with us in the party, so we have to expect them to be taken from us.” </p><p> </p><p>Hudson looked at Xanatos. “Then what’s the point of giving us these?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, Hudson, you’ll most likely get to keep yours while you wait with the police. As for the rest of us, they’re red herrings for whoever searches us before we get into the party. If we get to keep them, wonderful. But we’re planning as if they’re going to be taken. Instead, our main form of communication will be these.” He held up what looked to be a sheet of clear plastic.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t see anything,” Lexington admitted, squinting at the sheet through the plain glass lenses of his P3’s.</p><p> </p><p>“Good, you’re not supposed to.” Xanatos picked up a pair of tweezers and pulled something off of the sheet, holding it up to my face. “Miss Campbell, what do you see?” </p><p> </p><p>I could just barely make out the edges of a small clear circle with three small black dots. “It looks like a clear sticker with some dirt on it?” I said, uncertain.</p><p> </p><p>“Excellent. Now, if you’ll allow me?” He didn’t wait for me to respond before turning my head with one of his hands, much like Evelyn had done while she was applying my makeup. I stiffened, immediately uncomfortable at his touch. The others glared at him, Bronx growling. </p><p> </p><p>Brooklyn made a grab for his hand. “What do you think you’re -?!”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Relax </em>, Brooklyn.” Xanatos used the tweezers to gently press the clear sticker to the inner shell of my ear, then quickly let go of my chin, out of Brooklyn’s reach. “Miss Campbell is just helping me demonstrate.” He smiled slyly at Brooklyn, who glared back, his smile dropping when he saw <em>my</em> glare. “Now, Miss Campell, press the communicator like so.” He demonstrated on his own ear.</p><p> </p><p>I pressed the part of my ear where he had placed the sticker, hearing a small electronic blip.</p><p> </p><p>“What do you hear?” Xanatos asked. His voice echoed in my ear, barely half a second behind his actual words.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s like you’re talking through a microphone, and I’ve got a tiny speaker in my ear.” I tapped the sticker again, cutting off my own voice’s echo.</p><p> </p><p>“The playback in close proximity can be disorienting, but these practically-invisible communicators can transmit up to a mile away, and it’s impossible to hack into their signal. These also have GPS chips embedded into them - the smallest ones ever crafted, by the way - but they require a special computer to keep track of them. We’ll be bringing the computer with us in the jet. Owen will bring it to the police’s raid camp and operate it, relaying any important information on our locations if necessary.”</p><p> </p><p>Xanatos placed the sheet back on the table and picked up what looked like a stack of plastic key cards, each marked with the logo for a different hotel. “Everyone has their wallets, identification cards, and passports, right?” We all nodded. “Good. Take one of these and place them in your wallets. They’ll counter-block any electronic jamming signals. They should also be able to break through any door that requires a key card should you find one, although we haven’t had a chance to fully test it.”</p><p> </p><p>“What about weapons?” Brooklyn asked, still glaring at Xanatos.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m afraid this is all I can offer you. If I overload us with any more equipment, we’ll raise suspicion. Hey, I’m going in with just as little firepower as you are,” Xanatos said with a shrug, cutting off Brooklyn’s response. “Actually, I’ll have <em>less</em> firepower, because I won’t be able to turn into a <em>gargoyle</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“Enough!” Goliath looked around the table. “Are we ready to rescue Elisa?”</p><p> </p><p>All of us, even Xanatos, nodded solemnly.</p><p> </p><p>“Then let’s be on our way.”</p><p> </p><p>- - -</p><p> </p><p>The jet ride to the coordinates of the party was silent and tense. Everyone was too preoccupied with their own thoughts to make much conversation.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re crushing my hand,” Brooklyn said quietly. We were sitting in bucket seats next to one another. I had been staring out at the darkness beyond the window, watching the lights of highways and houses pass by underneath the jet, lost in thought.</p><p> </p><p>I let go of his hand, not realizing how hard I had been holding it. I also realized that my palm was sweating again, and almost wiped it on my dress before Evelyn’s voice echoed in my mind, “<em> Don’t you </em> dare <em> ruin that dress! </em>”</p><p> </p><p>My arms felt shaky, and my heart fluttered in my chest like a moth throwing itself against a lightbulb, desperately panicking to break through to the other side. “Sorry, just nervous.”</p><p> </p><p>“Me too.”</p><p> </p><p>I turned to him. “Brooklyn, what if we <em> don’t </em> find her? Or what if we find her, but we can’t rescue her? Or what if we find her, but it’s too late?! What will we do?!” My voice quavered, the panic that had been building up in my mind pouring out in my words.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s <em> not </em> going to happen.” He grabbed my hand again, ignoring the sweat I was sure he felt. “We’re going to find Elisa and rescue her.”</p><p> </p><p>“But how do you <em> know </em> that?!”</p><p> </p><p>“Because I know <em> us </em>.” He looked around the jet at the others. “There’s no way we’re going to ever give up looking for Elisa, not until we find her.”</p><p> </p><p>“But what if she’s -?!”</p><p> </p><p>“Elisa is alive.” Everyone turned towards Goliath. He sat along a cushioned bench, arms crossed, his voice calm. I wanted to believe him, but each second that we got closer to the party’s location, the more my mind spun, creating a bigger and thicker web of worry within it.</p><p> </p><p>“But, Goliath, what if it’s the worst-case scenario? What would we do? Why haven’t we talked about what to do if she’s...<em> not </em> alive?!”</p><p> </p><p>Goliath looked at me, and the anger in his eyes shot through me like ice. It took me a second to realize that he wasn’t angry at <em> me </em>, despite staring straight at me. “We already know what we will do. It has never been a question.”</p><p> </p><p>“We’ll tear the place down,” Broadway nodded, cracking his knuckles.</p><p> </p><p>“We’ll capture all the bastards behind Elisa’s kidnapping,” Lexington continued.</p><p> </p><p>“And we’ll make sure they <em> never </em> hurt anyone again,” Hudson finished, slamming his fist down on the armrest of his chair.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Complete and total destruction.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Is that what Elisa would want?” I asked quietly, hearing the violence underneath their words.</p><p> </p><p>Brooklyn shrugged. “Elisa’ll make sure they get justice by <em> human </em>standards.”</p><p> </p><p>“And if she is not found,” Goliath growled, “we will see that justice is served...the <em> gargoyle </em> way.”</p><p> </p><p>- - -</p><p> </p><p>We landed in a clearing about a mile and a half away from the party’s coordinates. Matt was waiting in the clearing with two nondescript cars.</p><p> </p><p>“We’ve set up base about two-thirds of a mile away from the party’s location,” Matt said. It wasn’t the time for small talk. “It’s close enough for the communicators to work without pushing the outer boundaries of the communicators’ range. Speaking of, where’s my -” Owen cleared his throat, holding up a plastic tube and a pair of tweezers. “Good, I’ll put that on at the base. Let’s get going.”</p><p> </p><p>The base camp was a huge tent set at the bottom of a hill, thick canvas walls and roof covered with camouflage fabric. A large generator powered bright lights and whatever surveillance equipment was inside the tent. Men in black vests and helmets checked equipment I didn’t care to look at too closely in armored vans parked near the camp.</p><p> </p><p>Several important-looking officers were waiting for us. Matt introduced us by our aliases, then waved us towards two expensive vehicles, one limo, one sedan, each with a driver - presumably an officer in disguise. We gathered near the cars in a cluster, in spite of the impatience the ‘drivers’ showed.</p><p> </p><p>As I stood there I realized that I had completely missed the moment where we were expected to become our aliases. It had just <em>happened</em>. Was it when we stepped off the jet? Was it in the car ride to the base camp? Was it now, while we stood in front of the cars? It had happened so quickly. And things were only going to go faster from here.</p><p> </p><p>Goliath broke the silence. “I know we are all afraid for tonight. We do not know what awaits us once we depart here. We do not know what dangers we will face. But we know this: we are united. We stand together, side-by-side, to face the unknown, to rescue one of our own. I will not tell you to ignore your fear. I will tell you to embrace it. Let it sharpen your senses so you avoid danger. Let it lead you towards victory. Let it drive you to protect one another. Because we will not survive this if we fight alone. For Elisa.”</p><p> </p><p>I was still afraid, but hope grew within the fear. I saw the others stand taller, determination shining in their eyes. Goliath turned to Hudson first, offering his arm. “Good luck, old friend,” he said as they grasped forearms.</p><p> </p><p>“Aye, and all of you as well,” Hudson responded solemnly. He held out his arm to the others, continuing the gesture.</p><p> </p><p>Goliath offered his arm to Brooklyn next. “Nice speech, Goliath,” Brooklyn said with a smirk, grabbing hold of his forearm.</p><p> </p><p>Goliath smiled back. “Was it too…” He searched for the word. “’Cheesy?’”</p><p> </p><p>“Just cheesy enough.” Brooklyn dropped his smirk. “Be careful out there.”</p><p> </p><p>Goliath nodded. “Make sure you do the same.”</p><p> </p><p>I watched the rest of their exchanges. I didn’t notice that Goliath was next to me until he held out his arm.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh!” Surprised, I held my arm out in return, not thinking. Goliath grasped my forearm firmly.</p><p> </p><p>“Coming here tonight shows great bravery, Melissa,” he said, a smile on his face.</p><p> </p><p>I grasped his arm back. “I don’t feel brave at all, Goliath, but I have to help get Elisa back.”</p><p> </p><p>He nodded. “You have not known her long, but you are a true friend to her. And to our clan.” He looked over my head at Brooklyn, smiling as Lexington snickered. “You are the keeper of Brooklyn’s heart.”</p><p> </p><p>I blushed furiously but smiled. “It was an even trade.”</p><p> </p><p>Goliath looked down at me. “Perhaps I will be as brave as you one day, and make a trade of my own.”</p><p> </p><p>He nodded, letting go of my arm and turning to Bronx, standing by my side.</p><p> </p><p>He knelt down and scratched the Scottish Deerhound behind a floppy ear. Bronx whined at him and licked his face. “Good boy, Bronx.”</p><p> </p><p>Lexington gave out his eager encouragement. Broadway shared his gentle compassion, and Hudson passed along his unshakeable calm. Brooklyn was able to coax a smile, one last laugh before facing the unknown. </p><p> </p><p>And Goliath had shared his hope. Hope we all needed.</p><p> </p><p>Brooklyn, Bronx, and I watched as the limo with Xanatos, Goliath, Lexington, and Broadway drove off into the dark woods, the headlights swallowed up by the night.</p><p> </p><p>I didn’t realize how cold it was until Brooklyn put his arm around me, drawing me towards him. I leaned my head on his shoulder, enjoying the warmth he was sharing with me.</p><p> </p><p>“You ready?” He asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Not at all.”</p><p> </p><p>Bronx nosed his way between us and gave a ferocious bark, knocking Brooklyn to the side.</p><p> </p><p>“Well at least that makes one of us,” Brooklyn said, glaring at Bronx, who wagged his tail and barked again. I laughed, trying to appreciate this final light moment, but it fell short, like a shooting star that only made it halfway across the night sky.</p><p> </p><p>The officer posing as our driver whistled to get our attention, making a circle in the air with his finger.</p><p> </p><p>“Guess it’s time.” I took Brooklyn's hand, and Bronx leaned against my legs. “Let’s go get Elisa.”</p><p> </p><p>Our car drove down the same dark road as the limo, following our friends into Hell.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The braid design for Brooklyn's hair was directly inspired by Nils Kuiper Verberne's (Instagram: @lithunium.snow) luscious locks! For real, go look at their IG, it's SO worth it! https://www.instagram.com/lithunium.snow/</p><p>I originally wanted to go for something similar to the looks in the History Channel show Vikings. I tried to research the actual history of Viking/Scottish/Celtic-type braids and while there are *some* mentions of braids, most of the *actual* historical evidence talks about how they had long, clean hair. Luckily for me, searching for 'viking braids' led me to @lithunium.snow and BOOM! Instant inspiration!</p><p>After all, Dev had to do *something* with all that hair!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0045"><h2>45. Forty Five</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Elisa tries to escape, and Fatimah tells her about Display Day.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> ~Twelve Hours Ago~ </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The morning had been the typical routine. Wake up to a plate of healthy food and a new set of white scrubs that had mysteriously appeared from <em> somewhere </em>, brush her teeth, change, be dosed with knockout gas, wake up in the forest, then walk to the town. Sometimes she woke up near Fatimah, sometimes she didn’t. She hadn’t woken up in the same place twice, so far. In town, Elisa found her tin box, drank the sludge, and went to the Zebolim Food Mart to continue playing town grocer.</p><p> </p><p>What had bothered Elisa most was how easy it was for all of the captives to not only accept their roles, but really <em> get into </em> them. Captive 93238 seemed to actually <em> enjoy </em> being Barbara the Housewife, walking into the ZFM with her ‘husband’ Stephen the Car Salesman (played by captive 26730). Younger captives, possibly around nineteen or so, play-acted as high school students, going to a ‘school’ where other captives pretended to teach them Chemistry and Social Studies. Elisa was thankful that she hadn’t seen any young children in the town so far.</p><p> </p><p>Fatimah had told her that sometimes they heard sounds from far outside of the city. Faint sounds like screams, sometimes ‘pops’ like the sound of distant, muted gunfire. Once, she told Elisa, they had smelled some kind of smoke, and saw a thin grey plume of it in the sky, far away. Fatimah assumed that there were other ‘cities’ out there. Elisa thought Fatimah was probably right.</p><p> </p><p>Fatimah had been an invaluable ally and friend to Elisa, helping her adjust to the experimental city without <em> giving in </em> to the experiment, as ‘Barbara’ and ‘Stephen’ and so many other captives had. But Elisa couldn’t stay there forever. So, despite Fatimah’s warnings about not trying to escape, Elisa had done just that: tried to escape.</p><p> </p><p>When the end of the experiment day came, Elisa pretended to drink the sedative vial. She put it to her lips and tilted her head back, but let the liquid pour out of the side of her mouth. Sure, she would be sleepy, but she wouldn’t fall asleep. Fatimah had seen her.</p><p> </p><p>“What are you doing?” Fatimah sounded like she already knew.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m getting out of here,” Elisa replied quietly, packing away the empty sedative vial next to her saliva sample and setting the tin box back on the platform.</p><p> </p><p>Fatimah sighed, disappointed. “I hope you’re still new enough that they won’t ‘disappear’ you.”</p><p> </p><p>They had walked towards the woods together. Fatimah had always walked farther than the other captives before passing out, and Elisa had joined her when she arrived. Something about pushing as far as you could to make it harder for them to get you, a small rebellion that was still within the rules.</p><p> </p><p>Elisa was done with the rules.</p><p> </p><p>She walked a few steps past where Fatimah lay unconscious, then pretended to pass out, too, falling limply to the ground and closing her eyes.</p><p> </p><p>She waited.</p><p> </p><p>What felt like ages later, Elisa heard footsteps crunching the leaves and twigs on the forest floor, coming towards them. Elisa tried not to visibly tense, counting down to the moment that she would spring up and attack her captor.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> 3… </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> 2… </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> 1- </em>
</p><p> </p><p>A thin, sharp pain radiated from the base of her skull. It spread, hot and stinging, across her skull. She couldn’t move, even if she wanted to. She couldn’t even open her eyes.</p><p> </p><p>She heard the footsteps coming closer to stop near her head. The deep, distorted voice that greeted her every morning, laughed.</p><p> </p><p>“How amusing, 029347! Bravo!” She heard a few polite claps. “Or should I say, <em> Detective Maza </em> ? Oh, you can’t move? Don’t worry, the paralytic I’ve injected into your spine should wear off in an hour. You <em> should </em> be worried about what your punishment is going to be, though.” The voice laughed, smug through the distortion. “Take her.”</p><p> </p><p>Elisa felt hands grab her arms and legs, her head falling backwards, unable to lift it. She was lifted up onto something solid but slightly cushioned. She felt something like a plastic cup be placed over her mouth, and smelled the candy perfume scent of chloroform again.</p><p> </p><p>“Have a good nap, Detective Maza.”</p><p> </p><p>She had woken up in a dark room with a bright light on her. She could move her fingers and toes, and she had been able to open her eyes, but she quickly realized she was strapped down to something. It seemed to be a dentist’s chair, from the way she was angled, looking almost directly into the bright light. Straps around her forehead and chin stopped her from looking around.</p><p> </p><p>“Detective Maza! So glad you could join us. I do hope you’re comfortable.”</p><p> </p><p>“Who the hell are you?!” Elisa yelled, eyes trying to search the periphery of her vision for the owner of the distorted voice.</p><p> </p><p>“Now, now, Detective, <em> such </em> language! And after I’ve <em> generously </em> decided to allow you to remain in the experiment instead of...disposing of you.” The voice tsked. “That <em> attitude </em> of yours is why you must still face the consequences of your disobedience. How else will you learn to stick to the parameters of the experiment? You don’t want to ruin our results, do you?”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t give a damn about your <em> results </em> ! Let me <em> go </em>!”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m afraid I just can’t do that, Detective.”</p><p> </p><p>The owner of the voice slowly came into view. Elisa saw their face, and gasped. Its skin was mottled, some parts black with necrosis, other parts raw and red, glistening. Scattered throughout were pustules, oozing slightly, and boils, shiny, ready to burst. It looked like its nose had been cut off, revealing two dark cavities in its place, more ooze trickling down to their mouth. It had no lips, its skin giving way to raw, red gums and teeth filed into points and longer than any human’s. Its eyes were too exposed, like its eyelids had gone the way of their nose and lips, trimmed away, eyes yellow with jaundice, red with exploded blood vessels, irises deep black and dead.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> What are you?! </em>” It game out as a scream.</p><p> </p><p>“I am but a humble scientist, Detective Maza.” Its mouth hadn’t moved. <em> A mask, </em> Elisa thought, relieved. <em> A disgusting, horrible mask. Which means that underneath it is a disgusting, horrible human </em> . “And <em> you </em>,” the person went on, “very nearly ruined my experiment.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, my attempt to get out of this hellhole that you <em> kidnapped </em> me and <em> trapped </em> me in almost ruined <em> your </em> experiment? Sorry, my bad.” Elisa felt better having a ‘face’ to put to her kidnapper, because it meant that there was someone to bring to justice.</p><p> </p><p>“You can hide behind sarcasm all you like, Detective, but I will <em> not </em> let you ruin my work. Which brings us back to your punishment. Normally we would remove you from the experiment for your behavior, but you’re new here, and I’d hate to waste a perfectly good test subject. So, we’ll conduct a few <em> specialized </em> experiments, then get you all rested up for tomorrow. How does that sound?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’d rather die.”</p><p> </p><p>“Die?” They had tilted their head. Even though the mask didn’t move, and couldn’t express emotion, the person’s voice, their posture, even the tilt of their head, made the mask’s expression seem sinisterly delighted. “Oh, Detective Maza, I would never let you <em> die </em> , not when you could be so much more <em> useful </em> . Isn’t that humanity’s greatest desire, after all? To be made <em> useful </em>, in service to the greater good of the whole? A ‘universal truth,’ I’d say.”</p><p> </p><p>“Who. Are. You.” Elisa wanted a name to put to this monster.</p><p> </p><p>The person had turned, reaching behind them to pick something up that Elisa couldn’t see until they held it in front of her: a syringe, filled with a sludgy liquid like the daily vials, only it was blood red.</p><p> </p><p>“Around here, I’m known as Doctor Disease. Shall we get started?”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> ~Eight Hours Ago~ </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Elisa had been awake for hours when the pre-recorded windchime sound came on. She had tipped the metal bed frame so it stood on its footboard, the mattress and bedclothes tossed into the center of the room. She used the metal headboard as a bar, doing pullup after pullup. Her arms were marked with small red spots where syringe after syringe had been jabbed into her, some injecting her with liquid after liquid, some collecting her blood.</p><p> </p><p>The liquids they had injected into her each did something different. The sludgy red one had made her skin feel like it was raw, the straps from the chair and even her clothing stinging her now hyper-sensitive skin. A syrupy yellow serum had neutralized the red sludge’s effects on her skin, but made her vision go dim, like she was looking through a fog. A thin grayish liquid had made her go numb and caused her to shake violently, dulling all of her other senses as well. Shapes that she couldn’t make out had gathered around her, covering her with thin, shiny foil, several red lights popping up around her while something else was injected into her. Eventually the shivering stopped, and the red lights and shiny foil were taken away. The last serum, a cloudy liquid that shimmered like an opal, had taken away her sight, her hearing, and her voice. A series of injections after that cleared away the effects of the previous ones, leaving Elisa exhausted and in pain. They had knocked her out with chloroform again, and she had woken up in what seemed to be the early hours before dawn back in her room.</p><p> </p><p>The only things within her control at the moment were her body and her thoughts. As she exercised, making sure she had full use of all her limbs and senses, she thought. She thought about the experiments they had done on her during her situps. She thought about Doctor Disease, their voice and cadence, the glee in their voice as they taunted her as she did pushups. She thought about Fatimah as she practiced various kicks, hoping she was okay. If their cameras were good enough to see that she hadn’t taken the sedative, they were more than able to spot their friendship, and Elisa didn’t want Fatimah to suffer for <em> her </em> escape attempt. She thought about punching the mask over and over again until she got to the human underneath while she shadowboxed, the thought putting a grim smile on her face.</p><p> </p><p>She finished the last of her pullups then righted the bed frame, pulling the mattress back onto it. She heard the hiss of the gas. It was early, but then again, maybe they were going to put her to sleep to bring in her breakfast and the next set of scrubs. She was able to get herself onto the bed before she lost consciousness, then woke up to a covered dish, orange juice, and coffee. Today, though, she didn’t have a new set of white scrubs. Instead, she had been given soft pajama bottoms, a matching shirt, a fleece bathrobe, and slippers. She finished the rest of the routine, confused about the new set of clothes, but still thinking. She had tried to escape one way, and it had failed. She would make sure Fatimah was okay, then think of the next step.</p><p> </p><p>But today was different. When Elisa woke up, she and the other captives were on a linoleum floor in a room that looked eerily similar to the general visiting section of a psychiatric ward. There were tables with board games and puzzles, a television, easels with watercolors set near them, even an upright piano pushed up against one wall. A walled and windowed corner seemed to contain a desk, a small slot open at the front. Fluorescent lights hummed above them. Along one wall was a section of mirrors. Elisa walked over to examine the mirrors. She placed a finger on one of the mirrors, seeing that there wasn’t any glass between her fingertip and the reflective surface. <em> These are windows, not mirrors </em>, Elisa realized. She had seen one-way mirrors enough as a cop, then a detective, to know what to look for.</p><p> </p><p>Elisa spied Fatimah in the reflection of the one-way and turned, hurrying over to her. Fatimah’s face lit up with a relieved smile. “They didn’t disappear you!”</p><p> </p><p>“No, you were right, I was still ‘new’ enough that they wanted to keep me. But they made sure I knew they weren’t happy with me.”</p><p> </p><p>“What did they do to you?” Fatimah whispered, glancing around. It was likely that there were cameras and microphones all over this room, too.</p><p> </p><p>Elisa rolled up one of the robe’s sleeves, showing a few of the needle marks. “Experimented.”</p><p> </p><p>Fatimah sucked in a breath.</p><p> </p><p>“Look, enough about what happened to me. What’s going on <em> today, </em> why are we in a psych ward?” Elisa looked around and saw that most of the other captives had gone to explore the various activities in the room. A few of them looked as surprised as Elisa.</p><p> </p><p>“This will be the fourth one I’ve gone through. People who have been here longer say it happens every year. I think of it as ‘Display Day.’” Fatimah walked over to a small table with a puzzle on it. The puzzle was of a field of flowers, too cheerful for the horror that was Zebolim. She motioned for Elisa to sit, and emptied out the puzzle pieces. “Later tonight, you’ll be able to hear voices from behind those one-way mirrors. A bunch of them. They play music through the speakers in the ceiling to try to drown it out, but I can still hear them. I think it’s a day that they show the results of their experiment, <em> us </em>, off.” She spoke quietly, eyes on the pieces.</p><p> </p><p>“What are they hoping to see? All of us pretty much look the same.” Elisa sorted through the pieces, picking out ones of similar colors and grouping them.</p><p> </p><p>Fatimah shook her head. “It depends on the experiment. There was one that put green spots all over us. <em> Green </em>! There was another where at least half the group collapsed all at the same time, then woke up an hour later like nothing had happened. That was a scary one…” She started to set aside edge pieces, pulling them out of the piles Elisa was creating.</p><p> </p><p>“Everyone seems like they look the same?”</p><p> </p><p>Fatimah nodded. “Not sure what this one is testing for, but maybe that’s what they want anyway. Who knows? Who knows why <em> any </em> of this is happening?”</p><p> </p><p>Elisa was quiet, then asked, “How do you do it? How do you just <em> keep going </em> ? I’ve only been here for a few days and I’m already going crazy. You’ve been here for <em> years </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Fatimah smiled. “I told you: hope. Clara’s picture gives me hope, reminds me that I have someone who loves me out there, someone I want to survive for. Maybe that’s why they bring a picture for us in the first place, it keeps us alive longer. Doesn’t stop them from adding new people,” she glanced up at Elisa sympathetically, “but at least we don’t lose a ton of people who are already here.”</p><p> </p><p>Elisa sighed. “So, this is all we do today? Do puzzles and let people look at us?”</p><p> </p><p>Fatimah nodded. “Honestly? It’s nice to be a rat in a cage one day a year, especially when all the other days are us chasing our own asses in a maze.”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you miss him?” Fatimah asked after a while. Elisa nodded. “Why don’t you tell me about him? We’ve got the time.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll tell you about Goliath if you tell me about Clara.” </p><p> </p><p>It was nice to have an ordinary conversation, even for a few hours.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0046"><h2>46. Forty Six</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Brooklyn, Melissa, and Bronx travel from the gate into Hell all the way down to the crossroads.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The sedan approached the coordinates for the party, the headlights barely breaking through the darkness of the forest around them. Brooklyn, Bronx, and I sat in the back, tense, my heartbeat racing faster and faster. I couldn’t help being nervous, but I could at least go over what we knew one more time.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m Melanie Williams, The Accountant.”</p><p> </p><p>“Right. I’m Brooklyn Sinclair, weapons expert. We both work for Dracon, but I’m new. Fresh blood.”</p><p> </p><p>“Bronx is my guard dog.” Bronx responded with a low growl, maybe practicing his role. “<em> You </em> are the only one allowed to call me ‘Melanie.’”</p><p> </p><p>“Because you’re my fiancée.”</p><p> </p><p>“Wait, how long have we been engaged? In case people ask.”</p><p> </p><p>“A few months? Two?”</p><p> </p><p>I nodded. “Long enough to be excited, short enough that we haven’t started planning the actual wedding yet. We haven’t set a date, we’re taking it slow. And we met through mutual friends.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s true enough,” Brooklyn said. “Should people call you ‘The Accountant,’ or ‘Miss Williams?’ Or both?”</p><p> </p><p>“I think it’s supposed to <em> just </em> be ‘The Accountant.’ Maybe I’ll let them drop ‘The,’ it sounds weird.”</p><p> </p><p>“And, you’re not an actual accountant, you’re the purse strings for the Dracons.”</p><p> </p><p>“If I’m normally behind the scenes, then <em> why </em> have I come to the party with you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Because I’m new? Plus we’re engaged, and this is the first time anyone from the Dracons has come to the party, and it’s about investing in...whatever the Four Horsemen are doing.”</p><p> </p><p>“Should we be excited about the party?”</p><p> </p><p>Brooklyn shook his head. “We should play it cool. Might make us seem suspicious if we’re <em> too </em> interested.”</p><p> </p><p>“Especially since the Dracons have resisted sending someone to the party for years. Good point.”</p><p> </p><p>“How about why your dog is off-leash?” We both started, surprised that Officer Travanti, the officer driving us, had spoken.</p><p> </p><p>“Uh, he’s well-trained?”</p><p> </p><p>Officer Travanti looked at me in the rearview mirror, skeptical.</p><p> </p><p>I sat up straighter and tried to look haughty and disinterested. “He obeys my commands. Questioning his obedience means you’re questioning <em> me </em>.” I raised my eyebrows and tried to project cold hostility.</p><p> </p><p>Travanti nodded. “Not bad! But, are <em> you </em> going to let <em> me </em> talk to her like that?” He shifted his gaze to Brooklyn.</p><p> </p><p>Brooklyn raised an eyebrow and answered in a bored tone. “She can handle herself.”</p><p> </p><p>He shook his head. “You’ve got to play it like fire and ice, opposites attract and all that. Adds extra credibility to why you’re there <em> together </em>.” </p><p> </p><p>Brooklyn cleared his throat and tried again, this time sounding angry. “She can handle herself, but open your mouth again and I’ll make <em> sure </em> you spend the rest of your life <em> eating through a STRAW! </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“Whoa, buddy, coming in too hot!”</p><p> </p><p>Brooklyn groaned. “You said <em> fire </em> and ice!”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, but pull it back until someone <em> really </em> gives you a chance to get pissed off. Try it one more time.”</p><p> </p><p>Brooklyn sighed. “Fine, repeat what you said.”</p><p> </p><p>Travanti chuckled. “Alright, I’ll start you off: Are <em> you </em> going to let <em> me </em> talk to her like that?”</p><p> </p><p>Brooklyn raised an eyebrow again, this time going for a frown and a tense, annoyed tone. “She can handle herself, but don’t push your luck. Unless you want to eat through a straw for the rest of your life.” He cracked his knuckles and Bronx growled at the same time.</p><p> </p><p>“Much better!” Travanti said. “Especially the teamwork, the growling was a nice touch!” Bronx barked happily. “I swear, sometimes I really think animals can understand us...”</p><p> </p><p>Officer Travanti fell silent as the tree trunks we had been passing suddenly gave way to a clearing. The trees were tightly packed around the clearing, only leaving space for the road’s end, and a huge stone gate.</p><p> </p><p>The gate looked ancient, standing nestled between two enormous tree trunks. It was as if it had been carved around the mouth of a cave, then moved to this spot in the forest hundreds of years ago. Two gigantic bonfires were lit in large metal braziers on either side of the gate, although there was no smoke rising up from them.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> I think we should head to Nineveh first </em>.” I almost jumped out of my skin at Xanatos’ voice in my ear. He must have switched on his communicator sticker to let us know where they were going. </p><p> </p><p>I looked over to Brooklyn, clicking my communicator sticker off. “Guess we’ll pick something other than whatever ‘Nineveh’ is.” </p><p> </p><p>He nodded, and we looked back towards the gate. A figure emerged from the mouth of the cave and walked towards our car. I kept expecting the person’s features to come into focus. Instead, the figure remained obscured, as if shadows clung to them.</p><p> </p><p>“Here we go,” Brooklyn whispered.</p><p> </p><p>Once the figure was close enough, I could see that they were wearing an all-black tuxedo, a top hat, and gloves. Over their face and neck was some kind of black cloth, showing the general form of a human face. It was like looking at a living mannequin.</p><p> </p><p>The figure bowed, then reached for the handle, opening the car door and stepping to the side with another bow. They offered me their hand, and I took it, allowing them to help me out of the car, Bronx jumping down onto the grass after me. Brooklyn opened the other door and exited the opposite side, quick to stride around towards us. The figure dropped my hand as soon as I had stood up. They closed the car door and gestured towards the gate with yet another bow, this time staying bent, their head down.</p><p> </p><p>We were to approach the gate on our own.</p><p> </p><p>Brooklyn offered me his arm, and I gently wrapped my hand under and around it, trying not to hold on too tightly. We didn’t know what role this shadow figure played, if they would relay our actions to whomever was in charge, so I didn’t want to start off the evening looking as scared as I felt. Bronx stayed at my side as we walked across the clearing towards the gate. The headlights from the sedan passed over us as it turned a circle and drove out of the clearing.</p><p> </p><p>The opening of the gate was at least twenty five feet high, the stone surrounding it carved with ghoulish faces. I couldn’t tell if the faces were meant to be human, demon, both, or neither. We stopped to look at the words carved across the top arch of the gate.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Through me the way into the grieving city </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Through me the way into eternal sorrow </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Through me the way among the lost people </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Abandon every hope, you who enter here </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“From the gate into Hell in Dante’s <em> Inferno </em>,” I said quietly.</p><p> </p><p>Before either of us could have any second thoughts, we both headed through the gate’s entrance, passing under the foreboding words and into the inky darkness.</p><p> </p><p>We walked forward slowly, the only light in the entire cave from the two bonfires outside of the entrance, growing fainter as we went further down a large stone tunnel. Our footsteps on the rough slate floor echoed off walls we couldn’t see, and the air was damp and chilly, even for autumn.</p><p> </p><p>We had to walk past the final edge of the light from the braziers. Bronx moved between us again, nosing at both of us. We caught on, putting a hand each on his back. As far as I could tell, Brooklyn and I were both practically blind in the cave. The enchantment must have worked differently for Bronx, allowing him to see better in the dark than we could.</p><p> </p><p>Lights suddenly appeared, candles lining the sides of the cave ahead of us flickering into flame, leading to another opening, presumably the exit. Between us and the exit was a long stone table, three figures in  hooded robes obscuring their faces standing in front of it. The figure on the left wore a white robe, the middle wore red, and the right wore black. Dark metal chains hung like belts around their waists, thick manacles of the same metal were around their wrists, a few links dangling off each cuff. A length of chain dangled down from within their hoods.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Step forth… </em></p><p>
  <em> “...to seal...” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “...your fate.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>They spoke one after the other, so smoothly that I thought it could be a trick of some hidden sound system, someone concealed behind the table or a jut of rock twisting a knob to make the sound glide from left to right.</p><p> </p><p>Bronx began growling, but I hushed him quietly. This was just smoke and mirrors, dramatic flairs for the partygoers. I imagined a snobby voice saying in my head, <em> Greeted by the Three Fates in front of the entrance to Hell? How droll! </em> The theatrics were very well done, but it was smoke and mirrors all the same.</p><p> </p><p>At least, I hoped.</p><p> </p><p>Brooklyn walked forward first, shoulders back and hands in his pockets, confident, but wary of the Fates just the same. I remembered to try to look relaxed, and tried to disguise my fear as interest.</p><p> </p><p>He stopped a few feet in front of the center Fate, looking between all three of them. When they didn’t give him any indication of who he should see first, he shrugged and headed left to the Fate in the white robe who had appeared to speak first.</p><p> </p><p>The White Fate turned to the table behind them and picked up a huge book, opening it to a page marked with a white ribbon. From inside of their sleeve, they handed Brooklyn an oddly shaped pen or quill, then held the book up. He leaned down to sign it carefully, handing back the pen. The White Fate placed the book back on the table and secreted the pen away.</p><p> </p><p>As Brooklyn walked towards the Red Fate, I saw the White Fate turn their hood slightly in my direction. <em> My turn </em>.</p><p> </p><p>I walked towards the White Fate, Bronx loping beside me. When I got in front of the White Fate, they reached for the book again. It was huge, easily the size of an atlas, bound in leather that was too pale. The White Fate opened the book to the page with the white ribbon, the pages brittle and tan with age. The White Fate’s hands were white, every line of their hand visible. Painted, not gloved. I heard Brooklyn hiss to my right, but I didn’t dare to look at him. It would have shown how nervous I was.</p><p> </p><p>The oddly shaped pen appeared in their hand. I realized that it was a huge spindle, the spiked tip somehow inked. It was appropriate to the first Fate, the one who spun the beginning of men’s lives in Greek mythology. I took the spindle from the White Fate and signed ‘Melanie Williams’ in the book, underneath ‘Brooklyn Sinclair.’ The spindle was as cold as ice.</p><p> </p><p>I handed it back to the White Fate and moved to the Red Fate. The Red Fate’s hands were also painted to match their robe, and like the White Fate, I couldn’t see their face. The Red Fate turned to the table behind them. They picked up a pair of long, dark metal spikes, polished to a high shine, hinged at the top like a pair of scissors. A curved piece of metal, open in the center, was bolted to one of the spikes. A screw was attached to the other spike, going between the open space in the bar, securing it in place with what looked like the same kind of knob used to tighten a guitar’s strings. It was a huge, ancient compass, perfect for the Red Fate, who was in charge of measuring the length of someone’s lifespan.</p><p> </p><p>The Red Fate lifted their painted red hand, holding it palm-up, the compass in their other hand. I placed my hand in their open palm. They moved quickly, their grip like a vice, and they jabbed one spike of the compass into the side of my middle finger. I hissed like Brooklyn had, blood welling up on the end of my finger. From their sleeve, the Red Fate produced an empty glass vial, pressing my finger against the top and squeezing a few drops of blood into it. They let go of my hand and sealed the vial with a black rubber stopper, then secreted it away in their sleeve again. From the other sleeve, they brought out what looked to be a piece of chalk, pressing it hard to the same spot on my finger. It stung, but the bleeding stopped. A styptic pencil. <em> Glad I don’t have to walk around bleeding from my finger </em>, I thought sourly.</p><p> </p><p>As I walked to the Black Fate, I saw Brooklyn waiting behind the stone table in front of the exit, watching me. He seemed genuinely annoyed, glaring at each of the Fates. I silently agreed with him. I didn’t like what they were collecting from us.</p><p> </p><p>The Black Fate held both their hands out to me. I noticed that unlike the White and Red Fates, their hands were glistening instead of chalky and dry. I placed my hands in theirs, feeling the wet paint transfer to my hands as they grasped them gently. They let go, and turned to the table behind them, holding out a white piece of cardboard with two squares drawn on it. <em> Signature...blood...and handprints </em>. This was the collateral the Four Horsemen collected from their guests. Things that, when left in the wrong place, would ruin someone’s life. The things that guaranteed the guests' silence.</p><p> </p><p>I placed my hands firmly on the cardboard, the Black Fate pressing against my hands from the other side. They turned and placed the cardboard on the table, next to Brooklyn’s prints, then turned back to me. From their sleeves, they produced a black cloth, and a straight razor, the metal black, the edge glinting in the candlelight. I wonder what the Black Fate, who cut the thread of a life when it was time for it to end, intended to do with the razor. They rubbed my hands with the black cloth first, getting most of the paint off. What little paint was left, they carefully scraped off with the razor, their hands steady. I was sure mine were shaking, but the Black Fate’s grip and turned vice-like, forcing them still. The razor and cloth disappeared into their sleeve when they were done.</p><p> </p><p>I joined Brooklyn at the exit to the cave, Bronx glancing back at the Fates and growling lightly.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Go now with Charon...”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “...across the darkened waters...”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “...to reach the Farther Shore.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The candles flickered out as quickly as they had lit, leaving us in darkness again.</p><p> </p><p>A heartbeat later, a dim lantern appeared in the mouth of the exit, hanging from a staff held by another robed figure in deep gray. Charon, the ferryman of souls.</p><p> </p><p>Charon turned and began walking through the exit, and we followed him, each with a hand on Bronx’s back, the light from Charon’s lantern leading us.</p><p> </p><p>I half-expected to be led to a literal boat and river. I could see part of the floor shining ahead of us in the tunnel. Instead of water, the floor changed to smokey glass. We walked over the glass, the surface rippled like gentle, smooth waves that had been flash-frozen, swirls of opaque white running through it at random. As we crossed, I looked down at the floor. I thought the glass would have only been a few inches thick, maybe a foot at most. Instead, the light from Charon’s lantern reached down and down through the glass, as if it went down for miles, the opaque lines running back and forth, up and down, like broken spiderwebs. It could have been an illusion done with mirrors, but I wasn’t so sure. Or maybe I just wasn’t as immune to the theatrics as I thought.</p><p> </p><p>The figure of Charon stopped suddenly at the other end of the glass section, before it changed back to stone.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> The steep and savage path awaits.” </em>Charon’s voice was a raspy whisper that seemed to fill the entire cavern.</p><p> </p><p>We cautiously walked around the gray-robed man. He had led us to a dead end, nothing but solid rock in front of us.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, what the hell is -?!” Brooklyn turned to glare at Charon, Bronx and I turning with him, to see Charon’s staff stuck in the ground just after the end of the glass river, the lantern gently swaying. Charon was nowhere to be seen. “Where’d he go?!”</p><p> </p><p>I turned back around. “Brooklyn…”</p><p> </p><p>Where there had been a wall of rock, there was now a ring of stalactites and stalagmites in front of a velvet curtain, all in the same grayish color as the stone. A host of architectural chimeras and grotesques framed the curtains like a proscenium in shades of gray and black. There were human faces, animal faces, even demon and devil faces, distorted and distended just before the point where they would be too hard to recognize. A few of the faces could have been called amusing, but their placement between faces twisted and contorted in pain, torture, and anguish, made them just as horrifying.</p><p> </p><p>Bronx’s hair stood on end, and he crouched down, baring his teeth, growling.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s a mouth.” Brooklyn said, disgusted and fascinated.</p><p> </p><p>I looked again, and he was right. The grotesques and chimeras were arranged, ordered and placed to make curling lips, twisted tusks, spiked horns, and piercing, angry eyes. The stalactites and stalagmites became its teeth.</p><p> </p><p>He frowned. “If they were going for ‘hell mouth,’ they’ve definitely achieved it.”</p><p> </p><p>The gray curtains drew back, mist drifting along the floor from behind them, with only darkness beyond.</p><p> </p><p>“Seriously? The fog machine’s overkill.” I didn’t realize I had said it out loud until I heard Brooklyn laugh.</p><p> </p><p>He looked at me with a smirk, offering his arm. “Enough screwing around. Let’s go kick some ass.”</p><p> </p><p>I took his arm and sighed. “This place has been a Matryoshka doll of reference after reference for all things Hell. I’m sure we’ve got a few more to go through before we get to even <em> see </em> any asses to kick.”</p><p> </p><p>He groaned. “I figured it out: This is the Hell part. Having to go through all of these scenes.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s not a bad guess. But there’s only one way to find out.”</p><p> </p><p>We walked into the darkness through the curtain, the mist tickling my bare ankles.</p><p> </p><p>We emerged into the woods again. Lanterns on staffs, similar to the one Charon had carried, lined a flagstone-paved pathway forward. Bronx went ahead, sniffing at the tree trunks and the ground.</p><p> </p><p>“Where <em> is </em> everyone?" I wondered aloud. "Why haven’t we seen anyone except the actors, shouldn’t there be more people here? People like <em> investors</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>Brooklyn shook his head. “This is taking forever.”</p><p> </p><p>I had an idea.</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe we should leave,” I said, angling my voice towards the woods.</p><p> </p><p>“What are you talking about? What do you mean, leave?”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Mr. Dracon </em> didn’t send us here to play ‘Angels &amp; Demons.’ ” I looked at Brooklyn pointedly. He nodded, understanding. “We’re supposed to be evaluating whether or not the Dracons should invest in these men. I doubt that the Dracons would want to invest in the Four Horsemen’s <em> showboating </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“True,” Brooklyn replied, also angling towards the trees. “We came here to check out some <em> tech </em> to invest in, and so far all we’ve seen are parlor tricks.”</p><p> </p><p>A bell sounded from up ahead.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, maybe it worked! Maybe we'll <em>finally</em> get to the party!” Brooklyn said quietly.</p><p> </p><p>“Here’s hoping,“ I whispered back.</p><p> </p><p>Our pathway led to a circular clearing with four other pathways leading off of it. Set into the stones in front of each pathway was a mosaic. The one on the left closest to our path had a mosaic of a dark bird in flight, with ‘Gehenna’ set in the stone underneath it. The next path clockwise was a skull with ‘Zebolim,’ then a flame with ‘Admah,’ and finally two swords, crossed, with ‘Nineveh,’ the path the others must have taken when they first got here.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, so we’ve got a crossroads,” I said aloud, looking along the paths, “but where’s the ‘demon?’”</p><p> </p><p>A voice, bored and tired, drifted from between the trees. “Why do people always assume it’s going to be a <em>demon</em>?” </p><p> </p><p>A man meandered out of the woods between the Zebolim and Admah paths, straight ahead of us. He had dull dark hair that fell around his face, and irises that were only just visible underneath the half-closed lids of his downturned eyes. A few day’s worth of dark scruff covered his lower face, surrounding thin lips stretched along a wide mouth. He wore an emerald suit, rumpled and baggy, with a cream-colored, slightly undone shirt and a light pink tie, pulled low and loose. He had the legs of his pants tucked into over-the-calf boots in deep brown leather. The boots were clean and oiled, seemingly the only thing about him that he took good care of. He looked ashen, as if the sun was a distant memory for him.</p><p> </p><p>“Welcome to the Crossroads of Hell, choose your path wisely for it could lead to wonders or terrors, blah blah <em>blah</em>.” He spoke lazily, as if reciting from a script while suffering from a hangover. “You get the gist.”</p><p> </p><p>He stopped a few feet in front of us, standing a little shorter than Brooklyn’s human form. The scruff on his face was patchy and uneven, less of a cultivated look of intentional messiness and more of a cultivated sense of ‘I don’t care.’ What I had thought was kohl-black eyeliner turned out to be the thickest, darkest eyelashes I had ever seen on anyone. His eyes were moss green and disinterested. He had wrinkles along the edges and inner corners of his eyes, and dark undereye circles, bluish against his olive skin, made him look like he hadn’t slept in weeks. The end of his long, thin nose was slightly upturned in a way that could almost be called cute, if it wasn't so out of place with the rest of him.</p><p> </p><p>“So, where’ll you head first?”</p><p> </p><p>“Why do you care?” Brooklyn asked back, cautious.</p><p> </p><p>The man’s mouth stretched into a grimace, the corners of his lips barely curled upwards in the bare minimum of what could be considered a 'smile.' His teeth were far too white, upper and lower canines just a bit too long and pointed. His dark, thin brows lowered, deepening the wrinkles around his eyes, which had gone from tired and bored to sharp and malicious.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, <em> trust me </em> , I <em> don’t </em> .” His grimace spread even wider. “I’m <em> supposed </em> to offer guidance to supplicants like you, ask you what your itch is and tell you which city can scratch it. But I’m not going to bend over backwards to help people who don’t want it. So, <em>fine</em>. <em> Don’t </em> tell me. I don’t care. Go wherever the hell you want.”</p><p>In a split-second, his expression switched from barely-disguised malice to delighted surprise. “Hey, that’s pretty good! ‘Go wherever the <em> hell </em> you want.’ ‘ <em> Go </em> wherever the <em> hell </em> you <em> want </em>.’ 'Go <em>wherever </em>the HELL you want.”</p><p> </p><p>We stood there, watching him practice variations of the line, trying different emphases and tones. He laughed loudly and heartily at himself, somehow able to still seem tired. He had forgotten about us completely.</p><p> </p><p>I needed to get his attention back. I tucked my clutch under my arm and began applauding. Bronx barked and wagged his tail furiously. </p><p> </p><p>The man was delighted. “Oh! Thank you, <em> thank you </em>, always love finding an appreciative audience!” He bowed deeply, sliding one leg back smoothly, the toe of his boot barely touching the ground. One arm swept behind him, fingers poised gracefully, the other bent to place his fingertips to his heart. He grinned, looking at us from under his dark brows and lashes, his expression just shy of flirtatious.</p><p> </p><p>Brooklyn looked between us and the man. “What the...Why are you applauding?!”</p><p> </p><p>“Your wonderful companions are appreciating my talent, of course!” The man stood up and winked at Bronx and I.</p><p> </p><p>“But he isn’t <em>doing</em> anything! <em>What's</em> <em>HAPPENING</em>?!”</p><p> </p><p>The man’s face fell back into his original bored expression, with an added touch of annoyance, glaring at Brooklyn, opening his mouth to say something.</p><p> </p><p>I took a small step forward. “Umm...excuse me, sir?” The man shifted his gaze to me, frowning at my interruption. “Who <em> are </em> you?”</p><p> </p><p>He sighed and tilted his head back, his hand over his face. “Oh...<em>right</em>.” He cleared his throat and pulled at his tie, setting even more off-center. “My name, gentle supplicants, is Mephistopholes.” Another classical reference.</p><p> </p><p>“Very nice to meet you, Mr. Mephistopheles.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> NOPE </em> , no, no, no, no, <em>nope</em>, never ‘Mister,’ <em> just </em> ‘Mephistopheles.’ That's <em>way</em> too close to one of those things from that so-called musical. I do <em>not</em> want to be confused with a '<em>jellicle cat </em>.'” He shuddered in disgust.</p><p> </p><p>“That seems fair. Well, <em>Mephistopheles</em>, I wanted to ask: As the keeper of these crossroads, which city do you suggest first-time ‘supplicants’ start with? I think we know a bit about ‘Nineveh’ already, but what about the other three?”</p><p> </p><p>Mephistopheles looked us over, glaring an extra second at Brooklyn. “You three are here for the Dracon family, right? Looking over weapons?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Brooklyn answered. “And we’re starting to get bored with all of the <em> theatrics </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Mephistopheles started to grimace again, the wrinkles around his eyes beginning to deepen, until he threw his head back and laughed. “Yeah, they <em> do </em> go overboard here. But hey, I like having a high-paying gig once a year. Well, I would normally suggest Nineveh, but if you’re not keen on it…?”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s more like, we’re saving the best fit for last,” I offered. “Might as well get the full tour and end on a high note.”</p><p> </p><p>“If you want to end on a high note, you need to start at a low one. I mean, they’re all great cities!” He looked around the woods, then turned to us and winked. “For the bosses,” he whispered. “But I’d start with Admah, go see Father Famine’s experiments.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Father.</em> <em>Famine.</em> <em>great </em>.” Brooklyn rolled his eyes, making Mephistopheles laugh again.</p><p> </p><p>“And believe it or not, he’s actually the <em> least </em> dramatic of the four of them.” Mephistopheles swept an arm towards the path with the flame mosaic. “And there, supplicants, lies your first path.” He yawned. “And you should be on your way. It’s an all-night party, but you <em> only </em> have the night. Good luck, and wonderful to meet you, Brooklyn. Bronx. Melissa.”</p><p> </p><p>He waved a hand and spun on his heel. "Let me know if I can help you, the next time you come to the crossroads!" He called over his shoulder, meandering back towards the trees he had emerged from. He disappeared as soon as he stepped off the paving stones, before setting a foot in the woods.</p><p> </p><p>“Neat trick,” Brooklyn murmured. “Let’s get going.”</p><p> </p><p>I pressed the inner shell of my ear, activating the communicator sticker. “Yes, let’s get going to Admah.” I pressed the communicator again.</p><p> </p><p>We began walking towards the path to Admah, placing my hand on Brooklyn’s arm. The woods were quiet, Bronx trotting beside us.</p><p> </p><p>“Brooklyn?”</p><p> </p><p>“Hmm?”</p><p> </p><p>“How did he know our names?”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe the actors memorized the guest list?”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe, but…”</p><p> </p><p>“‘But’ what?”</p><p><br/>
“How did Mephistopheles know my <em> real </em> name?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I've gone back through and edited this chapter, not for plot but for readability and some in-chapter continuity stuff (like I promised in my summary of the work as a whole). I felt like I needed to note the changes for the in-chapter continuity aspect, /especially/ because I finished and posted this chapter at around 3 AM and didn't get a chance to proofread it until /after/ I had gotten some sleep.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0047"><h2>47. Forty Seven</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Goliath and company visit the Minister of War in Nineveh, while Brooklyn and Melissa meet Father Famine in Admah. A helpful hint waits at the crossroads.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Goliath studied the people gathered around the display windows. Xanatos had compared the sight to people looking at a tank in an aquarium: they were fascinated, unaware of the cruelty of the creatures’ confinement. Goliath knew that this was one of the reasons why he, Elisa, and Detective Bluestone insisted the gargoyles stay out of sight: Humans would be happy to cage them just to look at them. Or worse, experiment on them.</p><p> </p><p>He hadn’t approached the windows yet, but he felt a pang of sympathy for the humans who were undoubtedly trapped on the other side. The crowd was anxious, murmuring and fidgeting. <em> No, not anxious </em> , Goliath realized. <em> Impatient </em>.</p><p> </p><p>“This is just as bad as a movie premier,” Broadway - <em> Brody </em>, Goliath reminded himself - grumbled. Lexington and Xanatos had chosen to move closer to the windows, while ‘Brody’ had remained with Goliath as his bodyguard. “They can’t wait to get the show on the road.”</p><p> </p><p>The display windows were located inside an enormous cave, similar to the one they had walked through, though a much shorter distance. Torches set along the walls lit the cave, casting shadows as their flames flickered.</p><p> </p><p>“Perhaps we should move closer,” Goliath said. He was unsure. He disliked leaving his back open to attack, but if he was to play his role correctly, he needed to appear more interested in the display than showing repulsion he truly felt.</p><p> </p><p>‘Brody’ seemed to know his thoughts. “Go ahead, I’ll keep an eye on the entrance of the cave.” He reached to adjust his hat, but stopped. The small stylist must have made quite an enduring impression on him.</p><p> </p><p>Goliath nodded and moved closer. While some of the attendees complained as he pressed pass them, others gave him knowing smiles and nods. Those ones wore small pins, some just one, others multiples. They all had one pin in common, at least: A metal diamond with two crossed swords etched into it.</p><p> </p><p>The man at the crossroads, Mephistopheles (possibly playing the role of the demon from the play <em> Doctor Faustus </em> that Goliath had read in the library), had suggested their group see the ‘Minister of War’ at ‘Nineveh,’ where the weapons were tested. The man who called himself Mephistopheles implied that Xanatos would be personally interested in Nineveh. Goliath suspected that whoever that man was had known about the various weapons Xanatos manufactured. Including the laser guns and the robots based on himself.</p><p> </p><p>“Monsieur Valois, I’ve got a perfect spot for you right here.” Xanatos came up to Goliath, patting him amiably on the shoulder and guiding him to one of the windows. “We can see everything from here.”</p><p> </p><p>The windows looked down into a large, circular pit. Four long, rectangular entrances with metal doors lined the sides of the pit, and the ground was a tan color, possibly packed sand. It was hard to tell from where they were standing how far down the pit actually was. Bright golden lights shone down on the pit like the noonday sun.</p><p> </p><p>The torches in the cave all extinguished at the same time. The crowd went quiet, all eyes focused on the display windows. A circle of ground in the center of the pit separated, a platform rising through it. The platform rose far above the level of the stadium, until it was even with the display windows.</p><p> </p><p>A man stood in the center of the platform, showing that the platform must have been thirty feet across. He wore a golden suit of armor, heavily polished so that the glare off of the metal was blinding. An assortment of long-handled weapons fanned out from his back, like a large collar. <em> Or a peacock’s tail, demanding attention </em>. He held two large swords, each as long as his leg, one in each hand. His face was obscured by a helmet that covered almost his entire face. The only opening in the helmet was a T shape in the middle of the man’s face, a space on each side for the eyes and a long, narrow opening down the middle, a thin metal noseguard hanging down between the eyes and halfway down the center opening. The man’s face was completely shrouded in darkness, two red points marking where his eyes were. The helmet was topped with a tall red fringe down the center of the head, interspersed with golden spikes. A long red cape hung from his shoulders, fanning out so wide that it covered half of the circular platform, touching the edges of the platform.</p><p> </p><p>“The Minister of War,” a woman said in hushed astonishment.</p><p> </p><p>“Shhh, he’s getting ready to start!” The man standing beside her hissed.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> You… </em> ” The man’s voice boomed in the room, echoing slightly. “ <em> ...have come to me...the Minister of War...to witness the powers...at my command. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>The man raised both swords smoothly, holding them out to either side and sweeping them in a slow arc above his head.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> And witness you shall. Behold...my...POWER! </em>” He crossed the swords, the impact sending a shockwave through the audience. The platform shot down as if the pillar holding it up had suddenly collapsed, the Minister of War standing calmly on it. The platform disappeared below the ring while the ground closed above him.</p><p> </p><p>The floor of the cave began to shake as a low rumbling sound grew. Goliath looked at the floor below him, then back at the pit. The large metal doors lowered into the ground, revealing groups of people standing behind them. They stood motionless, waiting. The spectators around Goliath waited as well, eyes trained on the pit. They were as tense as warriors waiting to charge into battle. It set Goliath on edge. He looked behind him to see ‘Brody’ trying to see over the crowd, drawn into the crowd’s suspense.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> STEP FORWARD! </em>” The voice of the Minister of War thundered and echoed, and the people rushed forward into the pit, stopping in neat rows like soldiers awaiting orders. They each held something that looked like a gun in their hands. The groups wore different colors of clothing, and they were far enough away that they looked like brightly colored ants crawling over sand.</p><p> </p><p>“The perfect distance to make you forget those are humans and not just dots,” Xanatos said quietly, his expression grim.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> My loyal subjects are eager to show you the fruits of their labor. Today, you shall see what I have created for you. BEGIN!” </em></p><p> </p><p>The people in the pit below burst into action. Some ran towards the others, some away, and yet others stood still. They all began firing.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> My subjects in yellow wield the latest in laser technology. Instead of obvious burn marks on the skin of their victims, their weapons deliver targeted pulses that create massive internal damage to their enemies. All without leaving a single hair misplaced!” </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “The green warriors merely have pellet guns, but their armor is reinforced to withstand the yellow warriors’ weapons. The applications of this technology could mean the difference between life and death from high impact weapons.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Those in blue have shoes and belts that levitate them slightly. This may seem trivial, but watch...look at their speed and agility, able to avoid most blows, even from our weapons!” </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em> “And finally, the subjects in white have advanced sensor devices implanted into their corneas. They can see farther and sharper, and specialized programming in the devices can predict the movements of their enemies </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Goliath watched the colored dots, all evenly matched. The floor of the arena started to show small stains on the sand next to where some dots stayed still.</p><p> </p><p>“They’re...<em> dead </em> .” Leixngton was shocked. “They’re <em> killing </em> each other!”</p><p> </p><p>“How else do you know if the Minister of War’s inventions are effective?” The woman from earlier said coyly.</p><p> </p><p>They watched the fight, dots of all colors going still as it continued.</p><p> </p><p>And continued.</p><p> </p><p>And <em>continued</em>. More and more dots grew still next to stains on the sandy ground.</p><p> </p><p>“When will this...<em> display </em> be over?” Goliath asked Xanatos in a low voice.</p><p> </p><p>“Soon, one would think. Otherwise they’ll run out of subjects.”</p><p> </p><p>Goliath frowned, angry. “This is a waste of <em> life </em> , and for <em> what </em>?”</p><p> </p><p>“Easy, <em> Monsieur Valois </em>.” Xanatos emphasized the name, reminding Goliath of his cover identity.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> A battle worthy of my subjects. Indeed, they are almost evenly matched. Perhaps we should see what these inventions could do...together. ADVANCE!” </em></p><p> </p><p>A new wave of humans flowed out of each entrance, all wearing red. A flood of red, spreading over the field and swallowing over everything.</p><p> </p><p>Dots of the other colors were quickly stilled by the red warriors. Finally, the only dots left moving in the pit were red.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> You have done well, my warriors! </em> ” The Minister of War called out. “ <em> Return from whence you came!” </em> </p><p> </p><p>The red warriors trudged back to the entrances dutifully, to the wild applause of the spectators surrounding Goliath. Neither Goliath nor Lexington applauded the display, Xanatos only clapping as much as was polite. The man who shushed the woman earlier looked over at them suspiciously, then leaned towards the woman and whispered in her ear.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> You have witnessed the power the Minister of War can offer you! A mighty power indeed!” </em> The Minister of War’s voice was filled with pride. It disgusted Goliath. <em> “Should you want a taste of this power for your own, then JOIN US! Become part of The Legion of the Four Horsemen, and you, too, shall REAP WHAT IS OWED! </em>”</p><p> </p><p>The spectators’ applause rose, with some even whistling and shouting. The torches lit themselves again, and the pinned spectators - the members of The Legion - prattled to each other about successes and sales.</p><p> </p><p>“I really hope Elisa wasn’t down there…” Lexington stared at the unmoving dots in the pit, fear in his eyes. Goliath felt that same fear.</p><p> </p><p>Xanatos scratched at his ear, subtly turning on the communicator sticker. “I have a feeling that she isn’t in Nineveh,” he said to Goliath, just loud enough for the communicator to pick up his voice. “Perhaps we should try Zebolim next? We could ask Mephistopheles’ opinions when we’re back at the crossroads.”</p><p> </p><p>“Very well. Let us leave this place.” Goliath turned and walked quickly out of the cave, unsure that Xanatos’ instincts alone could convince him that Elisa wasn’t among the stilled dots scattered at the bottom of the pit.</p><p> </p><p>- - -</p><p> </p><p>“He probably just misremembered your cover name, and got lucky by guessing your real name?” Brooklyn put his arm around my shoulder, looking at the darkness between the trees. “If he was supposed to memorize everyone’s names, he’s got to get them wrong every once in a while…”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe...That’s probably it.” Bronx scouted ahead, sniffing, but so far hadn’t found anything to be concerned about.</p><p> </p><p>The path opened up to another circular clearing, dominated by a giant canvas pavilion. Giant lanterns hung from the tall ceiling of the pavilion, with strings of smaller lights leading from them to the edges of the pavilion. Inside of the pavilion were several long tables covered with white tablecloths and candles, arranged along the sides of the pavilion, leaving the center open for the mingling guests.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you ready to meet Father Famine, Brooklyn Sinclair?” </p><p> </p><p>He nodded. “How about you, <em> Melanie </em> Williams?” </p><p> </p><p>I took a deep breath. “With you and Bronx by my side, I’m as ready as I could possibly be.” Bronx trotted over, letting me rest my hand on his back.</p><p> </p><p>We entered the pavilion, looking over the guests and the tables. The guests looked eerily normal, sipping at cocktails, talking, even laughing. People who appeared to be waiters carried silver trays of drinks around, offering them to the guests and disappearing to replenish their stock when the trays were empty.</p><p> </p><p>A waiter wandered towards us, his smile wide and empty, and offered his tray to us. “Welcome to Admah, the city of Father Famine. Please, take a drink!” The various glasses shone in the pavilion’s lights, different colors in each.</p><p> </p><p>“What’s in them?” Brooklyn asked, looking skeptically at the tray.</p><p> </p><p>The waiter’s smile widened nervously. “They’re an assortment, specially chosen and crafted by Father Famine. Please, take a drink!”</p><p> </p><p>Brooklyn was about to argue with the man, but I put my hand on his lapel, stopping him. “Now, now, our host has chosen drinks for us. Let’s be good guests.” I chose two drinks from the tray and smiled tight-lipped at the waiter, dismissing him. He gracefully and gratefully went on his way.</p><p> </p><p>I handed Brooklyn a short glass of a caramel-colored liquid and kept a tall, thin glass of shimmering electric blue for myself. “I don’t think they’re poisoned, but better not drink it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Fine, I’ll just hold it and look cool. Let’s take a look around.”</p><p> </p><p>We began walking around the tables, looking at the items on them. Dishes of all kinds were piled on the tables, from a bowl of apples, to a giant plate of paella, to a multi-layer wedding cake. None of the other guests was eating. The tables were missing two things: guest plates, and utensils. There was no way to make a plate of food for ourselves, and no way to pick up the food unless we used our fingers. Each table was the same, delicious foods with no way to consume them. Bronx sniffed at a few of the tables and growled quietly, his hair starting to stand on end. </p><p> </p><p>“We definitely shouldn’t eat anything here…and I don’t see any potentially kidnapped people, unless they’re hiding in the guests.” I said to Brooklyn. I turned to look to the crowd in the middle of the pavilion. “We should mingle and find Father Famine.”</p><p> </p><p>“Great. <em>Networking</em>.” He rolled his eyes and swirled his glass.</p><p> </p><p>“I happen to like networking.” A man walked through the crowd towards us, the other guests parting in front of him like waves against the bow of a ship.</p><p> </p><p>He was built like Goliath, tall, broad, and heavily muscled. He wore a short toga - an <em> actual </em> toga - of silver fabric, held together by curved pieces of thin metal that wound around to further show off his muscular body. The metal wound around parts of his exposed legs and arms, and I saw that it was crafted to look like grape vines, complete with grape leaves and the occasional bunch of silver grapes. His arms and most of his chest were exposed and seemed to be painted silver, reflective instead of the chalky paint of the White and Red Fates. Silver sandals with long straps crossed around his thick calves. He wore a mask, also of silver, that must have been cast from a classic Renaissance statue. The face was perfectly symmetrical, with a straight, strong nose and delicate brows over large eyes. A curly moustache and beard framed full lips. Around his head were bunches of grapes and grape leaves, the rest of his long, curly hair flowing down his back and over his shoulders. The mask looked to be one solid piece of silver, seemingly without any holes for seeing or breathing. It must have been unbearably heavy.</p><p> </p><p>“Father Famine, I presume?” I tried my best to sound and look disinterested. “Or perhaps I should call you Dionysus? Bacchus?”</p><p> </p><p>He laughed, heartily and without reservation, guests glancing our way with interest and a little jealousy. His voice was deep and clear, as if the metal mask weren’t there. “Glad to see you’re one of the more well-read guests here.” </p><p> </p><p>“You aren’t exactly subtle.”</p><p> </p><p>He shook his solid head, which must have been difficult with the weight of the mask and solid hair. “No, but you would be surprised by how often people ignore the connection. You’re both new, first timers to the party?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Brooklyn answered. “Here on behalf of the Dracons, looking to invest in weapons. If you've got any.” He looked pointedly at the tables.</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, yes. Mr. Sinclair, Madame Accountant, and,” he shifted the mask as if he was looking down, “your companion, Bronx. If you’re here for <em>physical</em> weapons, then I have to wonder why you’ve come to visit <em>me</em>?” Father Famine tilted his heavy mask.</p><p> </p><p>“We wanted to see it all,” I said, looking at the pavilion around us. “But so far, all I see is tables of food and trays of drinks. It seems odd, given your name.”</p><p> </p><p>He laughed again, nodding. “It would, but all will be clear with the demonstration. Which we will start immediately.” He turned to the large crowd of guests, clapping his hands. Somehow the sound reverberated loudly, immediately getting their attention.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Welcome to Admah, to the Feast of Father Famine! </em> ” His voice, like his hands, reverberated around the pavilion. He sounded warm and inviting, the perfect amount of enthusiasm for a dinner party host. “ <em> I, of course, am Father Famine </em>.” The crowd applauded, and we joined them, difficult to do around the glasses in our hands.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Tonight, we demonstrate our latest improvements for your judgement! Each table will provide a different demonstration. Please, feel free to wander between them, and enjoy </em>.” He clapped again. People faded into view from the darkness beyond the pavilion, coming to stand behind each table. They all wore tight white tank tops and shorts, showing the lines of their bodies clearly. Once they had all taken their places, they reached forward in unison, each picking up a portion of food from the plates on the tables, and began to eat.</p><p> </p><p>Father Famine turned back to us. “Will you allow me to escort you three around the tables for a turn?”</p><p> </p><p>“It would be an honor, Father Famine.” The other guests’ faces soured with jealousy as Father Famine placed a large hand each on Brooklyn and I’s shoulders, guiding us towards the closest table with Bronx by my side.</p><p> </p><p>Three people stood behind the table. Each held an apple in some stage of being eaten. The first had consumed about a third of their apple, while the second had barely taken a bite. The third was reaching for a new apple. In the few minutes since they began to eat, the man had already gone through four, the cores on the table in front of him. Bronx sniffed at the table, then came to stand a little behind me, whining quietly.</p><p> </p><p>“These three are demonstrating our modifications for satiety. This subject,” he motioned to the first person, “could be considered our ‘control,’ eating a conventional apple." <br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“Our next subject is eating a high-satiety variety apple.” The second person was taking another bite of their apple, but seemed nauseous while doing so. </p><p> </p><p>“And our last subject is demonstrating our low-satiety variety. Or, I should say, <em> was </em>.” The third person had finished off their bowl of apples, the cores left in a pile on the table like bones. They looked down at the cores, then suddenly grabbed them and began eating them as well, only pausing to spit out the seeds and stems. Father Famine chuckled.</p><p> </p><p>“What the hell’s ‘satiety?’” Brooklyn asked gruffly, frowning and picking up one of the ‘high-satiety’ apples. I heard a few of the guests gasp behind us. Apparently touching the food was improper for this gathering.</p><p> </p><p>Father Famine snatched the apple out of Brooklyn’s hand and returned it to the bowl. He laughed, but this time it sounded forced, laced with a warning. “Please refrain from touching the displays.” His tone returned to normal as he went on. “To your question, Mr. Sinclair: ‘satiety’ means ‘feeling satisfactorily full after eating.’ So our high-satiety apples last the average consumer much longer.”</p><p> </p><p>“Perfect for field rations,” I said, staring at the second subject. They were trying to eat a third bite of apple, but looked close to vomiting.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Exactly </em>, Madame Accountant. Very good! And the low-satiety apples -”</p><p> </p><p>“Mean the person <em> never </em> gets full,” Brooklyn finished for him. </p><p> </p><p>Father Famine nodded his head. “Yes. This particular modification has been around for a while, but we strive to perfect it more each year. Our little tradition here in Admah.”</p><p> </p><p>“What's the point of <em>that</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, Mr. Sinclair, have you ever eaten Chinese food, then felt hungry again an hour later?” Brooklyn nodded. “So then the next time you decide to eat Chinese food, do you order <em>more</em> than you did the last time, knowing that you’re going to be hungry? And then are <em> still </em> hungry an hour later? That was <em> us </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Brooklyn glared at Father Famine. “Buy more food but you’ll never get full. Got it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh come now, Mr. Sinclair,” Father Famine said, chuckling. “Don’t be so sour. <em> Everyone </em> here has fallen for it. But it makes a nice profit for us, and people still <em> eat </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>He guided us to another table, across the pavilion. “This is the display I am <em> most </em> excited to show this evening.” Here was another table, with three people, each standing behind separate gigantic, multi-tiered wedding cakes. They each had a bottle of expensive champagne and a champagne flute next to them. He stood behind us, keeping a massive hand on each of our shoulders.</p><p> </p><p>“Again, the first subject is our control.” He motioned to the first person, who dug their hand into the wedding cake, grabbing a fistfull and taking a bite of it, then drinking from the champagne flute. </p><p> </p><p>“The second’s cake is made with flour made from a particular mushroom, grown here in Admah. It’s effects are intriguing, to say the least.” The second person ate a bit of wedding cake, seeming fine, then took a sip of the champagne. As soon as they had swallowed the champagne, their pupils widened almost to the width of their irises and their body relaxed, head lolling. They stayed upright, somehow, but they began smearing their body with handful after handful of cake and giggling, babbling nonsense. Father Famine snapped his fingers, summoning two waiters, who moved forward to take hold of the second person's arms. They immediately began struggling and screaming, pulling hard and flailing their legs. The waiters eventually knocked the subject out, dragging their limp body away into the darkness.</p><p> </p><p>“And the third subject...well, I’ll let you see for yourself.” The third person nervously took a bite from their handful of cake and sipped at their champagne. “Mind you, this is a higher concentration of this particular flour. It’s meant to be used in lower doses so the effect takes place 6 to 12 hours after consumption, but that would make <em> this </em> demonstration last much too long.” The person looked from Father Famine to us, then over their shoulder where the second person had been dragged out of sight. We waited a few minutes agonizingly stretched across time to feel like hours, the guests behind us waiting with bated breath. </p><p> </p><p>Bronx suddenly started barking and whining loudly, his tail tucked underneath him, darting back and forth behind us while keeping his eyes trained on the third person.</p><p> </p><p>The third person looked at us, relief beginning to show on their face. “I feel fi-”</p><p> </p><p>Before they could finish ‘fine,’ they burst into flames, burning so hot and so fast that I couldn’t comprehend what was happening until their body collapsed into a pile of ash and bone. The person had caught on fire, from the inside out.</p><p> </p><p>Father Famine laughed, clapping his hands in amusement. “That’s my <em>favorite</em> new development this year! I’ve always been <em>fascinated</em> with ‘spontaneous human combustion,’ and now we can <em> create </em> it!” He laughed again, the guests behind us bursting into applause.</p><p> </p><p>Brooklyn and I stared at the ashes and bones, stunned, before remembering to join in the applause. We were supposed to be happy, <em> grateful </em> to witness this complete and total destruction.</p><p> </p><p>“I can see you’re impressed,” Father Famine said with glee, bending forward so his head hovered between Brooklyn and I. We both jolted, turning to face him. “It’s a shame your companion is so <em> distraught </em> .” He tilted his head to look at Bronx, who moved behind me, growling, his tail still tucked under. “It’s hard for mere <em> animals </em> to understand the <em>value</em> that comes from a discovery like this.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, yes, very true.” I tried to push the horror down, leave it for later. This gigantic silver man, Father Famine, one of the Four Horsemen, believed that baking a cake that could cause someone to burn from the inside out was <em> valuable </em> . And we had to try to make him see that we did, too. “In fact, this could be useful for <em> us </em>. Not all weapons are made with metal, after all.”</p><p> </p><p>Father Famine’s silver head bobbed up and down in agreement. “Undoubtedly true. I am often overlooked, considered...lesser...than the other Horsemen. But I like to think of myself as more...subtle. Perhaps you’ll persuade the Dracons to consider investing in Admah after all?”</p><p> </p><p>“Perhaps. I will report what we’ve witnessed here in Admah tonight, and make a recommendation. Thank you for your guidance and attention, Father Famine. I’m afraid this display isn’t to Mr. Sinclair or my companion’s liking. I <em>personally</em> found it quite intriguing. But we must see the other cities.” </p><p> </p><p>“So you must. Thank you for visiting me here in Admah.” He bowed slightly at the waist. “It has been a pleasure having the three of you. I hope you enjoy your visits to the other cities.”</p><p> </p><p>“I hope the rest of your displays go as well as the ones we witnessed. Thank you.” I wasn’t sure if The Accountant was a curtsying kind of person, so I bowed slightly as well.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, <em> thanks </em>.” Brooklyn glared at Father Famine and stood taller, posture all but screaming that he would never bow to the silver giant.</p><p> </p><p>I tensed, but Father Famine chuckled. He suddenly brought his hands down heavily onto Brooklyn’s shoulders and gripped tightly, Brooklyn staggering with the force. He leaned in towards Brooklyn, looming over him. “Oh, Mr. Sinclair, resent me all you like, but should the Dracons invest in the Four Horsemen, especially in Admah, I promise I will win you over.” I could almost hear him winking. “And if I can’t win you over, perhaps I’ll send a very special blend of flour over to the bakery that will be making your wedding cake. Just for you.” He patted Brooklyn's shoulder and released him, wandering away to meander through the crowd in the center of the pavilion.</p><p> </p><p>“Let’s go, <em> now </em>.” Brooklyn grabbed my hand and pulled me quickly towards the path back to the crossroads, Bronx darting ahead of us.</p><p> </p><p>I tapped the communicator sticker in my ear, just in time to hear Xanatos’ voice say ”<em>...try Zebolim next</em>?” </p><p> </p><p>I waited just until Xanatos had finished speaking to say back, “Perhaps we’ll convince the Dracons to invest in Admah, but we should continue back to the crossroads and go to the other cities.”</p><p> </p><p>- - -</p><p> </p><p>Brooklyn, Bronx, and I moved towards the crossroads quickly, relieved to be putting Admah behind us. Although we hadn’t spent much time there, it was much worse than I had assumed it would be.</p><p> </p><p>"He kidnapped them just to force them to eat poison, or to eat nitroglycerin cake, or whatever other <em>horrible</em> things he had in his pantry ." Brooklyn’s voice was raw with anger. "We’ve <em> got </em> to stop them.”</p><p> </p><p>“I agree," I said quietly, keeping my eyes focused on the pathway ahead of us. “But we’ve got to find Elisa first, and she wasn’t part of the ‘subjects’ in the ‘display.’” The words felt like ash in my throat. I stopped cold.</p><p> </p><p>He had gone forward a few steps before realizing that I had stopped. He turned back towards me. "Melissa?"</p><p> </p><p>I tilted my head to stare at the sky, looking at the stars to hold in my tears, breathing too fast. "That was <em>awful</em>! Why did he <em>do</em> that? Why did those people <em>applaud</em> him? <em>Why</em>?" Faster and faster, my heartbeat and my breath. I felt dizzy.</p><p> </p><p>He came back to me and held my hands. "I don't know. I don't think we'll ever know. But <em>right now</em>, we don't have time to think about it." He wrapped his arms around me and held me tightly, breathing in and out deeply and slowly. "Follow my rhythm."</p><p>I closed my eyes, feeling the rise and fall of his chest against mine, listening to his inhales and exhales. I hurried myself to try to follow him, a separate part of me angry at myself for the panic slowing us down. After what felt like too much time, I had caught my breath, breathing steadily again.</p><p> </p><p>He gently he released me and tilted my head down to kiss my forehead. "We're getting Elisa, and we're shutting this whole place down. But we've got to keep going."</p><p> </p><p>He grabbed my hand and pulled me forward before I could say anything. He was right. There wasn't any time to think about anything else except for getting Elisa, and permanently shutting down the Four Horsemen. And I sent a silent 'thank you' to Evelyn, for telling me that if I needed to cry but didn't want to ruin my makeup, all I had to do was tilt my head back and look up. "<em>Works every time, my dear</em>," I remembered her saying with a wink.</p><p> </p><p>“-<em> pheles? Where are you? </em>” A familiar voice called out from the crossroads clearing ahead.</p><p> </p><p>We emerged to see Xanatos, Goliath, Lexington, and Broadway, standing in the center of the crossroads. Broadway took a deep breath and tried calling out again.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Mephistopheles! Come out, come out, wherever you are! </em>” Broadway’s voice echoed around the clearing. “Oh, hey!”</p><p> </p><p>He had spotted us, and had clearly forgotten that we weren’t supposed to know each other.</p><p> </p><p>“Hello.” I tried to weave ice into my words. “And you are…?”</p><p> </p><p>Broadway looked shocked until Xanatos stepped forward. “David Xanatos. I believe you’re The Accountant for the Dracon Family?” He offered his hand to me. “It’s an honor.”</p><p> </p><p>I shook his hand back. “You have quite the reputation, Mr. Xanatos.” I looked at the rest of the group, trying to act like I didn’t recognize them. “Guests of yours?”</p><p> </p><p>“Indeed! A potential investor and his associates. And <em> you </em> are…?” He turned to Brooklyn.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Pretending not to know each other? </em> ” the familiar, tired voice of Mephistopheles called from the woods. “ <em> That’s adorable </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Everyone turned to look at the woods around us, unsure of which direction the voice was coming from.</p><p> </p><p>“Pretending? I’m not sure what you mean,” Xanatos called back.</p><p> </p><p>“No, no, don’t do <em> that </em>.” I gasped, jumping away from Mephistopheles, who had appeared right behind me. He had snuck up quietly without any of us seeing him. An amazing feat, given that the edge woods was a good ten feet behind me.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t <em>pretend</em> that you’re <em>not pretending</em>. You know I’m <em>much</em> smarter than that.” Mephistopheles wore a grimace poorly disguised as a smile, the wrinkles in his eyes cutting deep lines into his face, brows drawn down in annoyance. “I <em> know </em> that you all <em> know </em> each other. No need to pretend around <em> me </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“But, <em> how </em>?!” Lexington was nervously adjusting his glasses, bewildered.</p><p> </p><p>Mephisotpheles shrugged, brushing at the shoulders of his emerald suit. “Let’s just say, I’m good at reading people. Now, what are all of you <em> really </em> after?”</p><p> </p><p>“We are looking for a friend." We looked at Goliath. Was it smart to be this candid with this man? "She was taken.”</p><p> </p><p>“And you want her back.” Mephistopheles found a speck of lint on his suit and plucked it off, holding it up to his eye.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes. Her name is Elisa Maza.” Goliath’s expression shifted to hopeful. “Do you know where she is?”</p><p> </p><p>Mephistopheles placed the lint back on his suit. “She’s with Doctor Disease over in Zebolim.” He nodded to the skull mosaic. “You should go there. <em> Now </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Without another word, Goliath turned and began running down the skull path, Lexington, Broadway, and Bronx right behind him.</p><p> </p><p>“Melissa. You and Brooklyn go to Gehenna.”</p><p> </p><p>“What?!” I had been ready to follow everyone else, but Mephistopheles’ voice stopped me in my tracks.</p><p> </p><p>“You gotta be <em> joking </em>!” Brooklyn yelled angrily, looking between Mephistopheles and the retreating forms of Goliath and the others.</p><p> </p><p>“Once Zebolim is breached, <em> everything </em> will fall apart. It’ll be worse if ' <em> Reaver' </em> isn’t neutralized before the word gets out. You two need to get your asses to Gehenna.”</p><p> </p><p>“But-?!” My words cut off in a gasp.</p><p> </p><p>Mephistopheles had disappeared. No puff of smoke, no running towards the trees. He was just <em>gone</em>.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Damn that guy </em>! C'mon, let’s go!” Brooklyn grabbed my hand, pulling me towards the crow path.</p><p> </p><p>We sprinted as fast as we could, the path eventually opening up to a dilapidated Victorian house in gray and black.</p><p> </p><p>I heard Brooklyn groan as we ran up the rickety stairs up to the porch. “Of <em> course </em> the Death guy is in a <em> HAUNTED HOUSE </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“Go in quietly, or just bust in?” I huffed, adrenaline pushing me well past my own athletic abilities.</p><p> </p><p>Brooklyn responded by kicking in the front door and running through it.</p><p> </p><p>“Bust in, then.” I ran in after him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Oof, this was another difficult one to push through, but WE'RE GETTING NEAR THE END, EVERYONE! Thank you for sticking with it!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0048"><h2>48. Forty Eight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mephistopheles meets with an old friend, and Xanatos contacts Owen.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>During the confusion at the crossroads, David Xanatos had chosen a different path from the others. The path back to the entrance.</p><p> </p><p>He had seen everything he needed to, back in Nineveh.</p><p> </p><p>He took out his mobile phone. They hadn’t been searched prior to entering the party, but the group had defaulted to using the communicator stickers. He dialed a number and kept walking towards the entrance, waiting for the person on the other end to answer.</p><p> </p><p>- - -</p><p> </p><p>Mephistopheles watched the groups depart, one brow raised at the lone man walking down the path back to the entrance.</p><p> </p><p>“Must’ve thought he was so <em>clever</em>, leaving as soon as I got here,” he muttered, chewing at an extra bit of cuticle on his thumb.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you <em> bite your thumb </em> at me, <em>sir</em>?” The scandalized voice was high, bright, and very familiar.</p><p> </p><p>Mephistopheles sighed and hung his head. “Not <em> this </em> again.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hiya, Meph! Miss me?” A slim man with long white hair, pointed ears, and a wide, mischievous smile appeared, floating a foot off of the ground next to Mephistopheles.</p><p> </p><p>“Puck, when have I <em> ever </em> missed you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Aw, that’s not very nice! Are you still bitter about my being more <em> popular </em> than you?”</p><p> </p><p>Mephistopheles glared at Puck, the lines around his eyes growing even deeper, his upper and lower fangs bared.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m <em> just saying </em> , Meph, you got a raw deal with Marlowe. You should have hedged your bets on Billy, like me. Then maybe people would realize you’re one of us, instead of getting you confused with a <em> demon </em>. Marlowe really got your whole story wrong.” He leaned back in the air, looking for all the world like someone relaxing in an invisible hammock.</p><p> </p><p>Mephistopheles sighed, frustrated. “<em> Everyone </em> got it wrong, Marlowe, Goethe, <em>everyone</em>! Oberon was in the mood to acquire <em> one </em> human soul, and I was <em> bored </em> . Oberon picked Faust, I had my fun, then <em> Faust </em> got buyer’s remorse and spread the story that a <em> demon </em> working for the <em> Devil </em> had ‘tricked’ him into ‘deprave actions.’ Suddenly <em> that </em> version was everywhere!”</p><p> </p><p>“And Big Daddy did <em> not </em> like that!” Puck crowed, delighted.</p><p> </p><p>Mephistopheles groaned. “<em> Enough </em> , Puck. It’s been hundreds of years since we’ve seen each other. The only reason you’d be here now is because you <em> want </em> something. So, what do you want?”</p><p> </p><p>“No time to reminisce about the good days? Fine, I get it. Right down to brass tacks, it is: I need you to do me a favor.”</p><p> </p><p>Mephistopheles’ eyes widened, finally appearing fully awake. “A...<em> favor </em> ? You, want <em> me </em> , to do you a <em> favor </em> ? A <em> favor </em>?!”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, a <em> favor </em>.” It was Puck’s turn to look annoyed. “Now are you going to let me tell you about the favor, or are you just going to keep repeating ‘favor?’”</p><p> </p><p>Mephistopheles pulled his hair back with his hands, a smile of disbelief on his face. “Oh, I cannot <em> wait </em> to hear this. Please, <em>go on</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, speaking of Billy, remember when there was that whole ‘incident’ where Big Daddy Oberon made me use the ‘love flower’ on those Athenian kids in the woods?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. All because Oberon felt bad for the tall, skinny girl and wanted to play matchmaker but called it ‘fighting for true love’ or something. You screwed up and made them fall in love with the wrong people, then chased them around the woods trying to fix your own mistake. ”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Hey! </em> It’s not like Oberon gave me a lot of details, <em> and </em> I didn’t know there were four of them, <em> and </em> they weren’t wearing name tags!”</p><p> </p><p>“Are we just going to stand around recounting the plot of <em> A Midsummer Night’s Dream </em>, or are you going to tell me the favor you’re here to ask me?”</p><p> </p><p>Puck frowned. He had been floating around the clearing as they spoke, and now sat cross-legged and upside down, ten feet off of the ground. “Oh, <em> fine </em> . It does actually have something to do with love. Maybe not <em> true </em> love, but definitely entertaining love. What can I say?” He flipped upright and spun in a circle with his hands outstretched. “I’m a sucker for a good love story!”</p><p> </p><p>Mephistopheles groaned, rubbing both hands over his face. “Do you want <em> me </em> to play matchmaker?!”</p><p> </p><p>“No, just shut up and <em> listen </em>! You and I both know that The Gathering is coming.”</p><p> </p><p>Mephistopheles stilled. “Oh. <em> Shit </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“My sentiments exactly.” Puck flew back down to hover at eye level with Mephistopheles. “Now I’ve got some contingency plans in the works for myself, and I’m limited in what I can do thanks to the terms of my oath. So, I thought I’d give <em> you </em> the opportunity to help <em> me </em> kill two birds with one deal.”</p><p> </p><p>“What <em>deal</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>“The two you just sent to see ‘<em> Reaver </em> ,’ Melissa and Brooklyn? Their love story’s started, and <em> I </em> think it’s a nice, fluffy distraction for me on my bad days. A little sugary, but there's some spice thrown in there every once in a while. But there’s this whole ‘inter-species’ and ‘mortality’ issue. They might not be able to see the writing on the wall yet, but I <em> can </em> , and I’d like to erase that pesky writing so I can keep that nice, fluffy distraction available for <em> me </em> . So, I want <em> you </em> to make a deal that would solve all of that for me.”</p><p> </p><p>“A deal to help manipulate two humans’ love for each other to keep <em> you </em> entertained? Sure you’re not taking a page out of Oberon’s book?”</p><p> </p><p>“How <em> dare </em> you! It’s not two <em> humans </em> , it’s a <em> human </em> and a <em> gargoyle </em>. The whole ‘inter-species’ thing, remember? Not at all like Big Daddy.”</p><p> </p><p>Mephistopheles smirked, scratching at his patchy stubble. “Right, completely different. You’re still not telling me what <em> I </em> get out of it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, if you do it right, you'll be able to build yourself a way <em>out</em> of The Gathering into the deal. You’ve got plenty of time to figure it out. I’ve gotta get back to my post, a phone call's coming in.” Puck began to float up into the sky, readying himself to teleport back.</p><p> </p><p>“At least tell me which one’s the human before you go!” Mephistopheles called up to him.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t worry, Meph. When they come back to the clearing, you’ll be able to tell!” With a puff of green smoke and a comically small <em> pop </em> sound, Puck disappeared.</p><p> </p><p>Mephistopheles walked over to a tree and sat down on its roots, leaning back against the trunk. “A deal for a human that would take care of inter-species and mortality problems, huh? Whichever one it is probably has family...hmmm…” Mephistopheles closed his eyes, thinking.</p><p> </p><p>- - -</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Sir? </em>” The voice on the other end of the phone answered.</p><p> </p><p>“Finally! Owen, what took you so long?”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Apologies, Mr. Xanatos, just a little trouble with the signal. Is it time? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“Almost, Owen, almost.” Xanatos looked at the path behind him, calculating. He was always calculating something. In this case, it was time. “Give it about fifteen more minutes, then send them in. Take the coordinates from my communicator sticker.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Yes, sir. Anything else? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.” Xanatos stopped in front of a solid rock wall, where the cave that they had come through to enter the party should have been. “It seems like the Horsemen don’t like their guests leaving early. Send someone to extract me as soon as possible. Discreetly.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Yes, Mr. Xanatos. </em> ” Xanatos heard Owen cover the receiver of his mobile phone, muffled sounds of conversation coming through until he removed his hand. “ <em> The extraction team will be there in five </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“Make it three. We have no idea what’s out here in these woods.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Yes, sir </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good man.” He hung up, staring at the blank rock wall, wondering how they managed to make it look so solid.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I know it's a short chapter, but it's best that it's by itself!</p><p>Also, while I read the play in school forever ago, I more recently read the Manga Shakespeare version of it, and it helped me understand Oberon's role in the Helena-Hermia-Lysander-Demetrius love quadrangle SO MUCH MORE than the straight-up text did! Here's the link if you're interested: https://www.mangashakespeare.com/titles/midsummer.html</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0049"><h2>49. Forty Nine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Brooklyn and Melissa enter Gehenna to find Reaver.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Brooklyn ran through the house’s foyer and into its main hall, a giant staircase centered in a massive room filled with guests. A gramophone next to the staircase, slow and simple notes from a guitar and a man singing mournfully through tinny static. The guests stared at us, surprised into silence, the man’s refrain filling the room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...</span>
  <em>
    <span>Death will leave you standin’ and cryin’ in this land, Well he’ll come to your house...”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We were the center of attention, both trying to catch our breath from our mad dash to the house. The guests started whispering to one another, staring at us. A few people started moving towards us from various points in the room. Men who all wore dark jackets with coattails, light colored pants, stiff collars and blood red cravats, and tall black tophats with blood red ribbon. Undoubtedly Reaver’s servants.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did, we miss, anything, good?” Brooklyn asked loudly, between gasps.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chuckles and smiles slowly spread among the guests, making Reaver’s men pause. The guests turned back to each other, taking sips of deep red wine from clunky goblets of black metal and glass, the song drifting over and under their conversations. When the men saw that Brooklyn had set the crowd at ease, all but one went back to their previous locations.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"<em>...Come to your house, you know he don't take long......children find that your family's gone..."</em></span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Reaver’s man who continued towards us arrived with a tray of the metal and glass goblets, seeming to have plucked it from thin air as he walked through the crowd.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“On behalf of Reaver, welcome to Gehenna. Please, refresh your spirits with this elixir.” He held out the tray, each of us taking one of the heavy goblets. I tried hard not to wipe the sweat off of my face, feeling droplets trickle down my head from along my hairline. One of Brooklyn’s exhales came out as a laugh, which he tried to disguise as a cough.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man’s face remained expressionless, but he seemed to get a glimmer in his eye. “A word of warning to newcomers: mind the floors.” He turned away, slowly walking through the crowd, guests placing and taking goblets as he went.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“‘Mind, the floors?’” I was still out of breath, while Brooklyn seemed to be recovering fairly quickly. “That, doesn’t, sound good.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brooklyn was glancing around quickly, scanning the main room and the doorways leading off of it. “No, and we need to find Reaver </span>
  <em>
    <span>fast</span>
  </em>
  <span>. If Elisa really </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> in that Disease place, Goliath isn’t going to waste any time looking for her. We need to find Reaver </span>
  <em>
    <span>faster</span>
  </em>
  <span> than Goliath can find Elisa.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh </span>
  <em>
    <span>no</span>
  </em>
  <span>, we have to move!” I grabbed onto Brooklyn’s arm. “Where first?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m open to ideas,” he said, continuing to look around. “But my gut’s saying we need to go up.” He nodded towards the staircase.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I glanced at the rooms leading off of the main one, but they appeared to all be sitting rooms of some sort. There weren’t any exclamations of wonder and interest, seeming to indicate that whatever Reaver’s exhibit was, it was not on the main floor. “Up it is.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Should we worry about being spotted?” I asked him as we pushed through the crowd, heading quickly for the stairs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Actually, it might work in our favor.” We started going up the stairs. “But we don’t have the time to wait for them to notice us. Maybe if we move fast, that’ll make them move fast, too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The second floor had a gallery that surrounded the main floor, with several hallways leading off of it. Another staircase to the side led to the next floor. Guests wandered here and there around the gallery and hallways.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And everywhere, there were doors. The doors varied in size and style, some tall and narrow like broom closets, others short and squat, better suited for a space underneath a staircase. Some of the doors had ornate metal work, some were plain wood, and still others were bright, cheery colors, out of place amongst all of the black and gray striped wallpaper that covered everything else.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brooklyn looked around quickly, frowning. “I think we should be careful of the <em>doors</em> more than the <em>floors</em></span>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There are so many places he could be...Where do we even start?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Go door-by-door?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I looked at the multitude of doors around us again. “If that’s the plan, then we have to split up.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brooklyn spun me to face him, gripping my shoulders. “That’s how people get killed in horror movies! We’re in a </span>
  <em>
    <span>haunted house</span>
  </em>
  <span> run by a guy who thinks he’s Death, it's a <em>real-life</em> horror movie! That’s a terrible plan!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There’s no time to go around to each one </span>
  <em>
    <span>together</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and there’s no time to argue! Be quick, and be </span>
  <em>
    <span>careful</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” I pulled him in by his lapels and kissed him, catching him off-guard. I kissed him more fiercely than I ever had, putting all of my love and passion and fear into it. I felt him go weak in the knees for a brief moment, my arms going around his waist to keep him standing. I would have given anything to stay in that kiss, but hopefully, </span>
  <em>
    <span>hopefully</span>
  </em>
  <span>, there would be time for more later. “Don’t die.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He caught his breath and regained his balance. “You, too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We turned and headed for opposite doors.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The one closest to me was wider than an average door, made of shiny blue metal with tiny silver dots scattered across it, looking like a slash of constellations across a night sky. I opened the door and stuck my head inside. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A few guests were inside of the room, standing behind a glass wall and velvet rope that separated them from the ‘display’ on the other side. The other side of the glass wall looked hazy, as if it was full of smoke or mist, and the shadow of a person could be seen through the other side. The guests murmured, excited and impressed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The sign says that the gas turns to liquid in their lungs, drowning them on dry land!” A woman exclaimed, fascinated.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How is that any different than steam?” Another said, leaning towards the glass.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A man looked at a metal sign near the velvet rope. “Oh, it doesn’t turn into liquid! It says it draws liquid </span>
  <em>
    <span>from the body</span>
  </em>
  <span> into the lungs! Then it...hmm…’dissipates the liquid into the body once more.’”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So they ‘drown’ but there’s no evidence of drowning! How clever!” The first woman mused. The other two nodded with her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I couldn’t see the victim’s face, but I could see their silhouette. The outline of the person seemed to be clutching at their throat and banging on the glass, but their hand made no sound. I backed out of the room before I could see more, bile surging up my throat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moving on from the silhouette without even trying to help felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> wrong. I should be trying to save them, but I had no idea of knowing if there was any </span>
  <em>
    <span>time</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I swallowed the sour acid back down.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I listened to other doors, hearing more exclamations and murmurs behind them, moving on without opening them. We were looking for Reaver, and if the house was anything to go by, whatever room he was in would be a lot louder. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I opened a small square door set into the wall at hip height. I froze with a gasp. There was a head in a vat of something with a vinegary-chemical smell. The head had pale skin, shaggy blonde hair, and sunken cheeks. I might have recovered quickly from the sight of a head in formaldehyde if it hadn’t opened its eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Hello! Who are you?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” The head spoke, its mouth, eyes, eyebrows, the entire face was animated. It looked alive. Perhaps a trick? An actor with very clever makeup?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Hello? M’am? Yoo-hoo?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” The head blinked and smiled, then its expression changed to sympathetic. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Ah, I bet you’re wondering if I’m fake, right?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I nodded, heartbeat racing, chills crawling up my skin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Well, in a way, I am.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” The head smiled reassuringly. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>What you’re seeing </span>
  </em>
  <span>is</span>
  <em>
    <span> a head in a jar, but, no, it’s not ‘alive.’ This head has been implanted with delicate electrodes connected to </span>
  </em>
  <span>my</span>
  <em>
    <span> head! It’s like...a flesh video call!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> The head was pleased with its metaphor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But how can you…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>See you? Hear you? Talk to you without a throat? More technology, of course!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” The head looked over to the corners of the door, where I saw a camera and microphone. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>The speaker’s in the base of the jar</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” It said with a wink.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I shut the door. I heard the head laughing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Nice chatting with you! Enjoy the rest of your visit!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I opened the door again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh! Hello again!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where’s Reaver?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Everyone always wants to know where Reaver is.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” The head chuckled. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>But Reaver only sees </span>
  </em>
  <span>select</span>
  <em>
    <span> guests. What’s your name?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Melanie Williams.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The head went slack, looking the way a head in a jar was supposed to. After the few minutes of interacting with the head, it was just as startling to see it go inert. I leaned forward to tap the glass of the jar when the head reanimated.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t you know tapping on the glass scares the fish?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” The head laughed again. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Just kidding! I needed a second to look up the guest list. Congratulations, you actually </span>
  </em>
  <span>are</span>
  <em>
    <span> one of the select guests that Reaver will meet with! Continue down this hallway until the eighth door on the right. The door is a mottled red and brown. Open the door, take the stairs, then the first door on your left. Reaver’s expecting you!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” The head beamed. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Have fun!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Th-thanks.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re welcome! Mind closing my door before you leave?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I closed the door, then looked around. I couldn’t see Brooklyn, from where I was standing. Was there enough time to go get him before heading to see Reaver?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Miss Williams!! I forgot to mention! Reaver expects you ALONE!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” The head’s voice was muffled through the door.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of </span>
  <em>
    <span>course</span>
  </em>
  <span> he does,” I grumbled. I opened my clutch, glad I had kept hold of it during our dash to the house, and took out my passport, my wallet, key card, and lipstick tube. I dropped the empty clutch on the ground and began down the hallway. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In front of the first door the head had told me to go to, I dropped my wallet. They had described the door as mottled red and brown. They must not have known that it looked like caked-on, dried blood. The door’s handle was tacky. I hoped the blood was the fake, corn-syrup mix used on television and movie sets. I suspected it wasn’t.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The room wasn’t much bigger than a coat closet, with a ladder leading into the ceiling. I took the ladder, emerging into a hallway so thin I had to stand sideways. The skirt of my dress pressed against both sides of the hallway’s walls. The first door on the left was a little ways down the thin hallway. It was a simple white door with a black metal handle, and I made sure to drop my passport just next to it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I opened the door and squeezed from the hallway into a rectangular room, maybe ten feet by fifteen feet. There were two doors on the wall opposite of me, and three doors on each of the walls to either side.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Great</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Where to now?” I wandered from each of the doors, listening to each. The spaces beyond them were all silent.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I stood in the middle of the room, turning to look at each door. “Which one am I supposed to go through? They all look the </span>
  <em>
    <span>same</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I heard a click. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The doors all swung open slowly, creaking, moving in unison. Behind each door, including the one to the hallway, was a tall figure with large, red eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Miss Campbell. So good to see you.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The figures wore all black, and their red eyes were ovular and glowing. I could barely make out the mask they wore, but the red glow seemed to make the slight outline of a long, twisted point. A Plague Doctor mask. Like Father Famine, though, the mask didn’t seem to get in the way of Reaver’s voice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who’s ‘Miss Campbell?’ I’m Melanie Williams.” Sweat trickled down my back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>“</span><em><span>Oh, Miss Campbell, no more need to play games!</span></em> <em><span>Tell me. Did you ever try that hot sauce I recommended?</span></em><span>” The figures spoke with one voice, and the voice was familiar.</span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Y-</span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> were the one watching me? </span>
  <em>
    <span>YOU</span>
  </em>
  <span> went into my apartment?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh yes. Lovely place. Very homey, as I would expect of a good homemaker such as yourself! And you seem to be a good cook as well, although you could benefit from having a male influence to direct your culinary skills to perfection.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>?! Who </span>
  <em>
    <span>are you</span>
  </em>
  <span>?!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The figures turned their heads, red disc eyes tilting as one. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Perhaps we should have this conversation in private.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” The figures tilted their heads upright and snapped their fingers. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I know! I can show you some photographs while we talk! And ask you how your family in New Jersey is doing.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I heard another click.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then the floor fell out from under me.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I reached forward, throwing myself forward, able to get most of my upper body on the floor while my lower half dangled through the trap door.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The figures threw their heads back, red discs tilted up, laughing. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, </span>
  </em>
  <span>excellent</span>
  <em>
    <span>, Miss Campbell! But unless you’d like to lose a significant amount of weight, I’d recommend you let go</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I felt a hard edge start pressing against my ribs. A metal panel was extending from the trap door. I looked back, seeing a second metal panel extending behind me. The metal panel in front of me started pushing me hard, my hands scraping along the floorboards. I looked up at the figure directly in front of me. Then I let go.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I watched the thin line of light grow smaller as I quickly dropped down a dark chute, screaming, skin scraping along slick metal walls.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The doors in the room above all slammed shut quickly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The figure hadn’t noticed the keycard I left behind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>- - -</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brooklyn slammed the multicolored glass door so hard it rattled in its frame, the guests behind it gasping in surprise and outrage. They had been talking about how amazing the victim’s corpse looked underneath the glass coffin’s lid.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Fifth year in a row, and he looks like he’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>just</span>
  <em>
    <span> fallen asleep!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I can’t see any wrinkling or aging, not even any decomposition! Amazing!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Remind me when I die to get some of this Divine Lacquer! As long as I die pretty, of course!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The victim barely looked older than a human child, and no one seemed to be questioning </span>
  <em>
    <span>how</span>
  </em>
  <span> that victim had ended up in the coffin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Disgusting,” he muttered angrily. He had searched several rooms, each its own flavor of disturbing, none of them containing Reaver. He headed back to where he had split from Melissa, looking down hallways along the way. Splitting up had been a terrible idea, there had to be another way to search the house.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But Melissa was nowhere to be seen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He walked up and down several hallways, passing laughing guests and earning their glares as he darted around them. The more hallways he searched, the more panicked he was.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Where was she?!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, what’s this?” A guest across the gallery had bent down and picked something up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think it’s a clutch,” the other guest responded. “Should we leave it here?” Brooklyn ran towards them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hmm, maybe there’s a lost and found. We can hand it to an undertaker, they’ll take care of it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brooklyn snatched it out of the guest’s hand. “That belongs to my date.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The guests jumped, offended by his sudden interruption and rudeness, but he was already reaching between the guests for the square door on the wall. The second guest had to duck to avoid getting the door slammed into their face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Hello!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” A head in a jar behind the wall greeted him. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, your friends seem angry</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Screw ‘em, where’s the owner of this purse?” He held up the clutch.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Hmm...Oh! It belonged to a...Miss Williams? She’s gone to see Reaver</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two guests behind Brooklyn stopped yapping at him angrily when they heard the head mention Reaver.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait, someone got a private audience with Reaver?” One of the women said, stunned.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s not fair!” The other one whined. “I’ve wanted to meet Reaver </span>
  <em>
    <span>forever</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I’m one of his top investors! Hey, how much does Miss </span>
  <em>
    <span>Williams</span>
  </em>
  <span> donate, huh?” She tugged at Brooklyn’s elbow. He shoved her off of him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Which way?” Brooklyn glared at the head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, I can’t tell you </span>
  </em>
  <span>that</span>
  <em>
    <span>!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The head smiled coyly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brooklyn reached into the door and stuck his hand into the open-top jar, grabbing a handful of the head’s hair. “Tell me, or you’re coming with me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>REMOVING PROPRIETARY EQUIPMENT IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” The head screamed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How about </span>
  <em>
    <span>destroying it</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” He screamed back. The head’s expression changed to nervous, seeming to calculate what to do.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fine! She went down the hallway there!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” The head indicated with its eyes. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>But I’m not telling you anything el-</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brooklyn let go of the head, which momentarily looked relieved, then grabbed the jar and hurled it into the open space in the middle of the gallery. He heard the crash and the guests below screaming as he started running.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He spied a red rectangle on a wallet in front of a door. He scooped the wallet up and opened it, seeing Melissa’s fake id. “Smart enough to leave a trail, </span>
  <em>
    <span>stupid enough to go off on your own</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He kicked in the door and went up the ladder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>- - -</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Everything hurt.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A woman was singing. Her voice came in and out.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“...Make death cut me down so soon……..death, be easy...” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Everything hurt.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“…..Oh, Death, have mercy….”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A man was humming to the woman’s voice.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Rotten. It smelled rotten here.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sharp points on my back, on my arms and legs.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Trickles flowing from the points.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Pricks of fire in a line on my ankle.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I must have broken it.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>How?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“...Cold ice hands all over me….”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I must have broken it when…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I fell</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>My eyes snapped open, but everything was dark.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Everything except for two glowing red discs hovering over me.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I wanted to point out the two songs I use in this chapter because I tried to describe the sound of the music instead of just using the lyrics, so you should have a listen for yourself! The first is “Death Don’t Have No Mercy” by Rev. Gary Davis, and the second is “Death, Have Mercy” by Vera Hall (a rewrite of “Oh Death” or “O Death”). Enjoy!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0050"><h2>50. Fifty</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The invasion of Zebolim and the rescue of Elisa.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Goliath ran down the pathway as fast as his human form could go. Elisa was in Zebolim, with a ‘Doctor Disease.’ Goliath knew Elisa could fight as well as any other warrior in the clan against enemy combatants. He knew she could escape almost any trap, outwit almost any enemy.</p><p> </p><p>But sickness, disease...those were difficult to fight. Even for Elisa.</p><p> </p><p>The path gave way to a square building painted white, large red letters painted on a sign across the front: <em> Zebolim Hospital </em>.</p><p> </p><p>The last time Elisa was in the hospital, she almost didn’t come out alive.</p><p> </p><p>Goliath was not going to let that happen again.</p><p> </p><p>Goliath ran up the stairs, shouldering the door open and barreling through the guests in the hallway on the other side. He stopped at an intersection of hallways, blocked by a man with a clipboard. The person wore a white pants and shirt, and had a white, rectangular mask tied over their face and a white cap.</p><p> </p><p>“Welcome to Zebolim! Where can I direct you?”</p><p> </p><p>Goliath grabbed the man by the shirt, hauling them up to the tips of their toes. “Where is Elisa Maza?!”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> SIR! </em>Please put me down! There’s no guest here by that name!”</p><p> </p><p>Goliath kept the man aloft, dragging him closer. “She’s not a guest, <em> she’s a captive </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>The man’s eyes grew wide. “<em> Captive?! </em> I...I’m just an actor! I don’t know anything about any captives!”</p><p> </p><p>Lexington snatched the man’s clipboard out of his hands, flipping through the pages. “List of guests...instructions…’acting notes?’ Here! ‘List of exhibits: Resistances, Psychotropics, Cybernetics, Bioweapons.’ But no clues about which one Elisa would be in!”</p><p> </p><p>“We gotta split up!” Broadway said. “Everyone pick an exhibit, use the codeword!”</p><p> </p><p>“I got Cybernetics!” Lexington looked at the clipboard then pointed down a hallway. “Bioweapons is that way, Broadway!”</p><p> </p><p>“Right!” Broadway turned and ran towards the exhibit.</p><p> </p><p>“Resistances are over there,” Lexington pointed to another hallway, “Xanatos, how about you- Xanatos?! Oh, of <em> course </em> he bailed!”</p><p> </p><p>“We’ll deal with him later,” Goliath growled. “Bronx, you head that way. If none of the rest of us hear the codeword, we’ll head to your location.” With a bark, Bronx turned and ran.</p><p> </p><p>“Fine. Goliath, you’ve got Psychotropics. Be careful, though. Whatever that exhibit does, it’ll have something to do with altering their minds. It’s that way.”</p><p> </p><p>Goliath nodded, dropping the man and turning to run down the hallway Lexington pointed to.</p><p> </p><p>- - -</p><p> </p><p>Goliath pushed the double doors into the Psychotropics display area, revealing a large room with windows that looked into another large room. It was similar to the Minister of War’s observation area, only instead of looking down into a pit of violence and death, the room on the other side of the window was peaceful. A large group of captives dressed in sleeping clothes sat around tables, painted, or watched television.</p><p> </p><p>He moved towards the windows, focused on the people on the other side, when someone stepped in front of him, blocking his path.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Monsieur Valois </em> ! So <em> good </em> to meet you, glad you could make it to my little soiree.” This man, Doctor Disease, wore a hideous mask that looked like a burned plague victim, yellow, bloodshot eyes, and a lipless mouth of thin, sharpened teeth. His speech was deep and robotic, a manipulation of his real voice. Doctor Disease wore similar clothes to the man with the clipboard, with a long lab coat over the outfit, and instead of white, the suit was colored with large splotches of a light blue-green, with some splotches of metallic copper. “You’re just in time to see this display... <em> in action </em> . Please, allow <em> me </em> to <em> personally </em> accompany you.”</p><p> </p><p>The way he spoke sounded familiar, and it made Goliath uneasy. As if sensing Goliath’s unease, Doctor Disease put an arm around Goliath’s shoulder, facing him towards the crowd. “Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?” </p><p> </p><p>Doctor Disease’s voice resounded around the room. “<em> Good evening, ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to the Psychotropics display. I’ve got a real </em> treat <em> for you tonight. The subjects you see before you have been dosed with a particular cocktail of drugs for anywhere from a full year to four days. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Goliath tensed and turned around to the window behind him, wrenching his shoulder out of Doctor Disease’s grip. He scanned the captives, looking at each face as Doctor Disease continued on with a chuckle.</p><p> </p><p><em> “The cocktail has no taste or smell, but has a particular texture, best hidden in soups, stews, sauces, or even some baked goods. When ingested, it remains inert until exposed to the activation ingredient. In </em> this <em> case, that ingredient is simply a higher concentration of a particular gas. </em>” </p><p> </p><p>He snapped his fingers. A hissing sound came out of the vents, guests looking up in alarm at the sound. Goliath saw the captives in the display room also look up. “<em> Fear not, ladies and gentlemen, the gas is one you all know quite well. Oxygen!” </em></p><p> </p><p>The guests relaxed, but Goliath tensed more.</p><p> </p><p>He saw her.</p><p> </p><p>Elisa.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Now a higher concentration of oxygen is harmless - up to a point, of course - and would be easy to disguise. But, I’m sure you’re all wondering, what happens when it’s combined with the cocktail that these subjects have been taking? Well, it depends on </em> you <em> .” </em></p><p> </p><p>Doctor Disease turned and spread his arms wide. The crackle of a speaker came on, and again both the guests and the captives looked up.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> ATTENTION! ATTENTION! WE HAVE JUST BEEN INFORMED THAT LARGE CREATURES HAVE BROKEN OUT OF THEIR CAGES IN AN EXPERIMENTAL WING OF THE ZEBOLIM HOSPITAL. THESE CREATURES ARE HIGHLY INTELLIGENT AND HIGHLY DANGEROUS. LOCK ALL DOORS AND WINDOWS. REMAIN INDOORS. IF CONFRONTED BY ONE OF THESE CREATURES, DEFEND YOURSELF. GOD HAVE MERCY ON US ALL.” </em>The announcement was done in a man’s gruff voice, tinted with panic.</p><p> </p><p>Doctor Disease’s low, distorted chuckle sounded out after the crackling speaker cut off. “<em> How exciting! Let’s see how these subjects react to the news </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Some of the captives began screaming, moving quickly to shove tables and chairs against the doors. A few ran and banged on the protected desk in the corner, hands reaching through the small slot. Others looked around cautiously, clearly scared but not panicked like the others.</p><p> </p><p>Goliath saw Elisa tense and look around at the crowd around her. She said something to someone she was sitting with, a short, round woman with long dark hair, but then the woman stood up suddenly, pulling at her own hair and weeping. Elisa got up, trying to get the woman to sit back down. The woman pushed her, forcing Elisa back, then ran to one of the windows, hitting it with her hands and screaming. Elisa tried to pull the woman back from the window, but she pushed her back again. The woman began bashing her forehead into the glass, splitting her skin, blood trickling into her eyes. Goliath watched Elisa hook her arm around the woman’s throat, using her other arm to squeeze her arm tightly. The woman tried to throw Elisa off, but swiftly lost consciousness. Elisa gently laid her down out of sight, underneath the window.</p><p> </p><p>Doctor Disease chuckled. “<em> Panic. Paranoia. Perfection. And, what if we raised the stakes, just a bit? </em> ” He snapped his fingers again, and the lights in the display room began to flicker. The captives’ heads all whipped towards the door, which looked like it was shaking. “ <em> The monsters come knocking. What will they do if they get through? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>More people fell into panic. Some broke chairs apart, holding the pieces of wood like stakes or clubs. Elisa looked around, leaving her friend unconscious underneath the window, and went to the group of people arming themselves. She was yelling at them, gesturing wildly to the room around them. They started to get angry at her.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Perhaps they’ll begin turning on each other? </em> ” Doctor Disease sounded amused. The guests laughed. “ <em> Let’s watch and see, shall we </em>?”</p><p> </p><p>Doctor Disease came up behind Goliath. “Monsieur Valois, how are you enjoying the display? Ah, I see you have your eye on subject 029347.” He leaned in to speak quietly into Goliath’s ear. “She’s our newest subject, and hasn't had the cocktail for more than four days. She seems to have kept most of her wits about her. Which is much more than I can say for her brother, when he got a nasty dose of a <em> different </em> formula.”</p><p> </p><p>Elisa’s brother. Derek Maza. <em> Talon </em>.</p><p> </p><p>Goliath knew who the voice belonged to.</p><p> </p><p>“Doctor..<em> Disease </em> ,” Goliath said slowly, touching the communicator sticker in his ear. “Can you tell me if any <em> espresso </em> will be served at the end of the Psychotropics display?”</p><p> </p><p>Lexington’s voice came over the communicator. “<em> Got it, Goliath! On our way! </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“Apologies, Monsieur Valois, would you like to have one while you witness this display?” Doctor Disease tilted his masked head.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> I’ll grab Bronx! </em>” Broadway joined in. </p><p> </p><p>“Yes, if possible.” Goliath switched the communicator off. “How much longer will the display be?”</p><p> </p><p>“With any luck, a quarter of an hour more. You aren’t thinking of <em> leaving </em>, are you, Monsieur Valois?” Doctor Disease’s voice sounded suspicious.</p><p> </p><p>“I was in a rush to arrive here, I was unable to...use the facilities beforehand.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, of <em> course </em>! Through the display door, then just follow the signs. But do hurry back!” Goliath had turned and began walking away. “We’ve got some excellent escalations planned.”</p><p> </p><p>Goliath slipped through the doors without acknowledging him.</p><p> </p><p>As soon as he was in the hallway, he began trying the doors. Most opened into small rooms or closets. He passed by the ones for the restrooms, continuing to try doors until he found it. A locked door with a keycard access, a red light shining on the lock. </p><p> </p><p>Lexington, Broadway, and Bronx came down the hallway, skidding to a stop when they saw Goliath.</p><p> </p><p>“Goliath! Where’s Elisa?!” Broadway looked up and down the hallway, as if expecting her to emerge from one of the rooms.</p><p> </p><p>“She’s inside the ‘display room.’ The other captives that she is trapped with are in a drug-induced panic. They have become violent. She appears to be the most sane one in the room, and she’s in grave danger. I believe this door might lead to one of the doors leading into the room. Can you open it?” He turned to Lexington.</p><p> </p><p>“Let’s try these keycards that <em> jerk </em> Xanatos gave us,” he replied sourly. </p><p> </p><p>He pulled his keycard from his jacket pocket and held it up to the lock. When nothing happened, he tried swiping the keycard through the lock.</p><p> </p><p>The light switched from red to green with a click. Lexington opened the door. “It worked!”</p><p> </p><p>“Good. Broadway, Bronx, go through the hallway, try to find the door that leads into the display room. Lexington, you’re with me. We will transform before entering the room.”</p><p> </p><p>“Transform? Aren’t there going to be guests in there? Won’t we scare them?”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Yes </em>. They will understand the fear that Elisa and the other captives are feeling.”</p><p> </p><p>Goliath removed his ring.</p><p> </p><p>This time, Goliath was so focused on rescuing Elisa that the pain of the transformation felt dull. He briefly registered the expensive clothing of his disguise laying shredded on the floor, parts of the slacks the only thing remaining on him.</p><p> </p><p>“They won’t like him when he’s angry!” Broadway joked. He had enough sense to look embarrassed when Goliath turned his glare on him.</p><p> </p><p>“Broadway, you and Bronx stay in your current forms. The captives have been told to look for monsters, and I believe that Doctor ‘<em> Disease </em>’ did so purposefully.”</p><p> </p><p>“Wait, do you think he’s <em> expecting </em> gargoyles?” Lexington asked, one hand on his ring in preparation for his transformation.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes. I suspect Doctor Disease is an old ‘friend’ of ours. The one who transformed Elisa’s brother into <em> Talon </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sevarius?! Wow, Brooklyn is <em> not </em> going to be happy to see him.” Broadway shook his head, worried.</p><p> </p><p>“Where <em> is </em> Brooklyn, anyway? And Melissa?” Lexington looked around, twisting the ring nervously.</p><p> </p><p>“There’s no time to look for them. We must rescue Elisa. <em> Now </em>. Broadway, Bronx, you two get going.” Broadway nodded and headed through the door, turning left to go in the direction of the display room. “Lexington.” Goliath put a hand on Lexington’s shoulder. “The sooner you transform, the sooner the pain will be done.”</p><p> </p><p>He swallowed nervously but nodded, taking a deep breath before removing his ring. Lexington’s webbing broke through the sides of his slacks, but the belt and a ring of unbroken fabric below his knees kept them from falling off.</p><p> </p><p>“Glad I won’t be running in there naked.” He was sweating from the pain, but tried to recover quickly.</p><p> </p><p>Gasps and murmurs, some horrified, some impressed, came from the guests in the display room, loud enough to travel down the hallway to where they were standing.</p><p> </p><p>“They must be escalating the display! Let’s go, Lexington!”</p><p> </p><p>- - -</p><p> </p><p>Fatimah wailed and beat her hands against the glass. Elisa tried to pull her away.</p><p> </p><p>“Snap out of it, Fatimah! It’s just a trick! It’s not <em> real </em>!”</p><p> </p><p>Fatimah shoved Elisa away and kept screaming. Elisa watched in horror as Fatimah began hitting the one-way mirror with her forehead as hard as she could. In the reflection she saw Fatimah’s terrified face, blood dripping down her face.</p><p> </p><p>“I hope you forgive me for this!” Elisa hooked Fatimah’s head in a sleeper hold, careful to position Fatimah’s windpipe in the crook of her elbow. She didn’t want to suffocate her, just decrease the blood supply to her brain so she passed out. Fatimah quickly fell limp, and Elisa laid her down right next to the wall, hopefully out of the way of the other panicked captives.</p><p> </p><p>Elisa turned when she heard the sound of breaking wood. Another group of captives had been ripping up furniture to fashion weapons for themselves, shouting about ‘protection’ against the ‘monsters.’ Other captives seemed more unsure, but were tipping over tables and chairs, setting up barricades and makeshift shelters.</p><p> </p><p>She ran up to them. “Everyone! Calm down! This isn’t <em> real </em> , monsters <em> aren’t </em> real!”</p><p> </p><p>“What do <em> you </em> know about it?!” The captive who had played ‘Steve the Car Salesman’ screamed, fear and rage turning his face purple.</p><p> </p><p>“They said ‘experimental,’ we’ve been experimented on, it said ‘experimental’ there <em> has </em> to be monsters here why else would they say ‘experimental’ when we’ve been experiments of course there are others oh god, <em> oh god </em>,” ‘Barbara the Housewife’ babbled, her hands pulling at her hair.</p><p> </p><p>“Come <em> on </em> , just <em> think </em>! We were living fake lives in a fake town, it’s not a stretch that they’d put us in a fake emergency!” Elisa was frustrated, starting to feel panic rising up in her. If she didn’t get these people under control, they would turn violent. They would hurt each other. She had to stop them.</p><p> </p><p>A captive pointed at her with a broken-off chair leg. “Maybe <em> you’re </em> working <em> with </em> the monsters!”</p><p> </p><p>The other captives ripping up furniture turned to stare at Elisa, their eyes glazed over with fear and anger.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m <em> not </em>, I’m just trying to keep you safe!”</p><p> </p><p>The lights started flickering. The door leading into the fake psych ward began rattling, loud banging sounds on the other side.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh god oh god they’re here <em> they’re here  THEY’RE HERE </em>!” ‘Barbara’ began crying and screaming.</p><p> </p><p>The calmer captives began fighting over the barricades and shoving each other out of the shelters.</p><p> </p><p>‘Steve’ looked at Elisa. “<em> YOU! </em> ” He pointed at her with his makeshift weapon, this time a long piece of wood broken off from the frame of a couch, jagged at the end like a spear. “ <em> You’re </em> going to try and let them in, <em> aren’t you </em>?!”</p><p> </p><p>“What?! <em> No! </em> There’s nothing to let in! <em> THIS ISN’T REAL! </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> LIAR! </em> ” The captive with the chair leg screamed. “We’ve got to stop her! She’ll let the monsters in! <em> She’s working for THEM! </em>”</p><p> </p><p>The captives in front of her lunged for her. She managed to evade a few of them, but other captives who overheard ‘Steve’ tackled her from behind, pinning her to the ground.</p><p> </p><p>“Tie her up! Use the robe sashes!” ‘Steve’ screamed, spittle flying from his mouth. The others began binding Elisa’s arms and legs.</p><p> </p><p>The lights cut off completely. Red emergency lights around the room clicked on, and an alarm began sounding.  The banging on the door got louder, and foam tiles on the ceiling began shaking, dust raining down on the captives.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> THEY’RE IN THE CEILING! </em>” ‘Barbara’ screamed. She crawled underneath one of the few chairs that hadn’t been claimed for a barricade or weapons, curling up on her side and covering her head, weeping.</p><p> </p><p>The captive wielding the chair leg took hold of Elisa by her bound feet and dragged her over to Fatimah, roughly shoving her next to the unconscious woman. “<em> You </em> stay <em> there </em> . We’ll deal with you later! <em> If </em> we survive.”</p><p> </p><p>Elisa began trying to loosen the bathrobe sashes binding her arms, struggling furiously. Then she heard it. She squirmed until she could rest her ear against the wall. Underneath the blaring alarm and screams of the captives, she heard more screaming, coming from the other side of the wall with the one-way mirrors.</p><p> </p><p>Something was wrong. Something was wrong <em> on the kidnappers’ side </em>. Elisa’s eyes widened. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> What if it wasn’t a trick? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>She tried to tell herself it was, it <em> had </em> to be. But it was too late. The effects of the drug she had been fighting off finally took over, and she began to scream.</p><p> </p><p>- - -</p><p> </p><p>The lights in the guest display area cut out a few seconds after the lights in the display room did. A few of the guests yelped, but more of them chuckled. Doctor Disease did not find it amusing. This wasn’t part of the display, but he wasn’t about to tell the guests that.</p><p> </p><p>Suddenly the doors burst open. No, the doors hadn’t burst open. <em> They’d been torn off </em>. The light from the hallway outlining a hulking figure with huge wings taking up the entire doorway. The figure’s eyes glowed solid white. The outline looked familiar to Doctor Disease.</p><p> </p><p>“ Ah, <em>finally</em>!” Doctor Disease realized who it was, and took a step forward. "I had <em>wondered</em> when you were going to arrive! Good to see you again, <em>Goliath</em>."</p><p> </p><p>The figure dashed forward, grabbing Doctor Disease by the front of his oxidized copper-colored scrubs.</p><p> </p><p>The guests hesitated, panicked but wondering whether this was part of the display, too. Until they heard a hissing from above them. They could see the outline of something clinging to the ceiling, glowing white eyes narrowed at them. The creature let go, dropping to the ground in the middle of the guests, and let out a roar.</p><p> </p><p>The guests began screaming, pushing at each other, rushing to get away from the lizard-like creature in their midst. Several of them fell, the other guests trampling and tripping over them in a dash towards the door.</p><p> </p><p>“I can't say I'm glad to see <em>you</em>,<em> Doctor Sevarius </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Doctor Sevarius chuckled behind his mask. "I'm so <em>glad</em> you could be here to witness my little <em>experiment</em>. But first, tell me: what did you think of my 'death-defying' <em>performance</em> in the lab a few weeks ago?"</p><p> </p><p>Goliath growled and and hoisted him into the air. "I am not here to <em>chat</em> with you!"</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Put me down, you OAF! </em>” Doctor Sevarius yelled at Goliath, his distorted voice betraying his fear.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Gladly </em>,” Goliath snarled. With his free hand, he punched through the display window, tossing the disguised Doctor Sevarius into the room. The captives immediately reacted, launching at him with their makeshift weapons.</p><p> </p><p>“No, <em> NO! </em> STOP!” Sevarius screamed at them. Suddenly, the door into the room swung open, revealing Broadway and Bronx in their disguised forms.</p><p> </p><p>“Everyone! This way!” Broadway yelled above the noise. The captives flooded out through the door, while Bronx dashed into the room and nosed at the captives frozen in fear, pushing them towards the door.</p><p> </p><p>Goliath climbed into the room through the broken window, sending the last few captives running. Broadway flashed Goliath a thumbs up before closing the door, following the captives.</p><p> </p><p>Lexington ran the rest of the guests out of the room, swiping at them with his tail, purposefully missing them with his talons, continuing to roar and hiss. Once the guests had left, Lexington looked around until he spied an electrical panel near the display room’s windows. Lexington opened the electrical panel and looked at the wires, carefully pulling them loose.</p><p> </p><p>Goliath looked for Elisa and saw her sitting next to the woman she had knocked out, arms and legs bound. Her eyes were wide with fear.</p><p> </p><p>“No, <em> NO! </em> Don’t come any closer! <em> Stay away from me!! </em>” She wriggled backwards, falling over because of her bindings.</p><p> </p><p>Goliath approached her cautiously. “Elisa, do you recognize me?”</p><p> </p><p>“Are you a monster?!” The red emergency lights were still on, the alarm still blaring. She looked over at Doctor Sevarius, moaning in a heap across the room. “Are you going to hurt me?!”</p><p> </p><p>“No, Elisa. I’m a friend.” Goliath’s voice was gentle, reassuring. </p><p> </p><p>Lexington managed to cut and connect the right combination of wires, shutting off the alarm and emergency lights, restoring the fluorescent lights a moment later.</p><p> </p><p>Elisa blinked against the sudden brightness until her eyes adjusted, the figure in front of her coming into clearer view.</p><p> </p><p>“Goliath? What are you doing here?”</p><p> </p><p>“We came to rescue you, Elisa!” Lexington called through the window.</p><p> </p><p>Elisa smiled in relief, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“Uh, guys? Security’s heading our way, we gotta go!” Lexington crawled through the broken window.</p><p> </p><p>“Lex, untie me! Goliath, grab Fatimah! We’re not leaving without her!” Elisa nodded to the unconscious woman.</p><p> </p><p>The three of them headed for the door out of the room, Goliath cradling Fatimah in his arms.</p><p> </p><p>They didn’t notice Sevarius sit up, ripping off his mask. He glared at them as they left, holding up the lapel of his lab coat to his mouth.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> ARMAGEDDON PROTOCOL.” </em></p><p> </p><p>“Armageddon Protocol?! Please confirm!” The voice came through his earpiece.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> ARMAGEDDON PROTOCOL, CODE Z-D-0-D-1-6! NOW!” </em> He roared into the small microphone.</p><p> </p><p>An air raid siren began going off, louder than the display alarms. Louder than the screams of the captives, running from invisible monsters. Louder than the cries of the guests, claiming that they saw <em>real</em> monsters. The siren could be heard echoing throughout the woods, sounding from speakers in Zebolim, Admah, Nineveh, and Gehenna.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0051"><h2>51. Fifty One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Melissa discovers Reaver's identity, and Brooklyn gives Melissa her first gliding lesson.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I sat up, ready to back away from the glowing red disks, but I felt sharp, stinging pain in my hands, my legs, my back. I cried out, trying not to move.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Ah, how rude of me. It must be difficult for you to see. Allow me </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>The glowing discs retreated. I heard a scratching sound. A match flared in the dark, showing the figure in black with the Plague Doctor mask. He held the match to a glass lantern, the flame catching and glowing brightly. In the light, the Plague Doctor mask was bone white and smooth, red glass discs set into the space for eyes. His long coat had a tall collar that reached to the bottom of his ears, a blood-red cravat at his neck. A mop of unruly auburn hair curled over the edges of the mask and along his jacket collar. His hands were bare and bone white. The light from the lantern shone over the pile of broken glass and wood I was sitting on.</p><p> </p><p>It was a pile of broken picture frames. I glanced at one of the photos. My smiling eyes stared back at me. Royal blue bridesmaid dress, proudly hugging the bride, her white dress now stained red with my blood. The sharp pains I had felt were pieces of broken glass that had sliced into me. I scanned the rest of the frames and canvases, seeing that they were the ones taken from my apartment.</p><p> </p><p>“You left the note, <em> and </em> you took my pictures.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Oh, you </em> are <em> a clever woman, aren’t you? Yes, I toured your lovely little home after a bit of reconnaissance, and decided to leave you a warning. And a friendly piece of advice, of course."</em></p><p> </p><p>I looked above me, seeing the dark square in the ceiling. I had fallen down a chute and landed on top of the picture frames. The room was cold and dark, made entirely of stone. I must have fallen all the way to the basement of the Gehenna house. A smell like rotting meat came from nearby. I turned to see a pit cut into the stone, a few planks of wood placed across the top. Reaver stood in a corner near me, carefully hanging the glass lantern from a hook on the ceiling.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re Reaver.”</p><p> </p><p>He chuckled and shook his head, the beak of the mask cutting a horizontal line in the hair. “<em> Such impatience! Very well, I’ll dispense with the pleasantries, since they seem to be lost on you. </em> ” He made a bow, sweeping an arm back, flourishing the skirt of his long jacket. “ <em> Yes, I am Reaver, ruler of Gehenna, Master of Death and Decay. So pleased you could join me here, Melissa Campbell </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“H-how do you know my name?!” I winced, feeling woozy from losing blood from the cuts caused by the broken glass. More than a few of the cuts that I could see were deep, large shards of glass still stuck in them.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> I have been studying you, Miss Campbell. From afar, and for a long while. I find you to be a very lovely specimen. I would have been content to just watch you, but then..</em><em>. </em><em>You and your friends - Clara, and, I want to say, 'Jack?' - were sticking your noses in where they didn't belong. I thought Clara had ceased her 'secret' investigation, but then you got yourself involved. You riled both of them up. And just imagine what I thought when I saw you frequenting the 23rd precinct! I simply</em> had<em> to intervene. I</em><em> tried to warn you to stay away. And I </em>believed<em> you when you told me you were quitting your job and moving, that you had taken my warning to heart and were leaving me well enough alone." </em></p><p>His voice shifted from condescending to almost forlorn. <em>“ But, no. No, you didn’t heed my warning. Instead, you tried to trick me with that story about New Jersey. And yet I still saw you, talking with Detective Bluestone, sneaking in and out of the Civic Center. Such a shame. For being such a clever woman, you are still very stupid.” </em>He removed his coat and cravat, hanging them on a hook on the wall. Under his coat he wore tight gray pants tucked into calf-high black military boots, and a garnet, wide-collared blouse with billowy sleeves, hanging off of his thin, bony frame. The shirt was open to just below the middle of his pale, skeletal chest.</p><p> </p><p>I got cold and clammy, pain, blood loss, and fear making me weak. “W-what are you going t...to…”</p><p> </p><p>“‘<em> What are you going to do to me? How do you know my name? Who are you?’ So many questions. For all of your faults, I enjoyed studying you, Miss Campbell. But now I simply cannot suffer you to live any longer. Especially with all of this</em> nagging<em>.</em><em> Don’t you know what happens to nagging women who ask too many questions? </em>” He rolled the billowing sleeves up, tucking the folds into one another to keep them up, his forearms so thin that hollows formed between the bones in his forearms.</p><p> </p><p>I tried moving back again, the glass cutting deeper into me, making me even dizzier. The edges of my vision grew fuzzy and black, just barely able to make out the hazy images of a cage set into a wall and a shiny, steel table with shiny, steel instruments lined along its edge. I had trouble holding my head up.</p><p> </p><p>Reaver strolled over to me, boots crunching on broken pictures of me, my friends, and my family. He crouched in front of me, slowly lifting the Plague Doctor mask over his head. Underneath the mask, his face was all angles, sharp cheekbones over sunken cheeks, thin, pointed nose, and sunken eyes, the skin around them looking dark and bruised. His smile was all teeth between artificially plumped lips, the skin of his face pulling back tightly. His auburn hair fell around his cheeks, the youthful cut of his hair a sharp contrast to his skull-like face.</p><p> </p><p>He grabbed my chin tightly with one of his bony hands. I blinked at him. He looked familiar, but I couldn’t place his face. I could barely think beyond recognizing his grimace.</p><p> </p><p>“Here in Gehenna, Miss Campbell,” he hissed, a feverish look in his eye. “Nags are turned into glue.”</p><p> </p><p>He slid a knife out from inside of his boot, the blade long, thin, and sharp. It glinted in the fading lamplight. <em> No, in my fading vision </em>. I was getting colder and colder, starting to shake. I couldn’t use any of the self-defense moves that Owen and I had worked on, even if I had the strength to. The ornate lipstick tube that held a spritz of knockout spray, one of my last lines of defense, had rolled out of my hand to the outer edge of the pile of glass shards and wood splinters.</p><p> </p><p>I wasn’t going to be able to escape him</p><p> </p><p>“Such a shame, Miss Campbell. If you were better behaved, we could have spent more time together. I could have asked you how your move to New Jersey was going.”</p><p> </p><p><em> Oh......It's……. </em> My thoughts were sluggish. I could barely keep my eyes open. <em> It’s…… </em></p><p> </p><p><em> “ </em> H-harding <em> ...… </em>” I mumbled. A ringing was growing louder in my ears.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m so <em>pleased</em> you remember me, Miss Campbell.” His voice was close and soft, his fingers gripping tighter and tighter on my chin. “You know, Doctor Disease is the one who gets all the librarians for subjects. He enjoys poaching from the rest of us, but I’ve always believed I shouldn’t hunt where I sleep. And yet, how <em> fortunate </em> that you just fell right into my little trap. I had so hoped you would."</p><p> </p><p>He leaned in closer to me, his lips almost pressed against my ear. "My lovely little specimen. It won't be the same as seeing you in motion, but I would have <em>died</em> if I couldn't see you any longer. Now, I won't have to settle for mere pictures. I'll use everything I have available to preserve you, to gaze upon you <em>forever</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“Now, stay still,” Harding whispered, the hand on my chin forcing my head back. “I need a clean cut to preserve your beauty.” I heard a faint pounding sound somewhere above me. Or maybe in my ears. <em>Was someone...calling for me… </em>I felt something thin and cold press against my neck. </p><p> </p><p>My eyes flew open and I screamed. Pain raced through my body. Stinging, burning shocks seemed to burst out from my bones, my skin was on fire, stretching, pulling. I arched my back, only to fold forward, unable to escape the pain stabbing into my back, my legs, my skull. Sharp snaps from my legs and arms. Horrible pressure on my nails. I could feel every jolt travel along my spine as it pulled itself apart, my nerves screaming as loud as my voice as my muscles and organs and skeleton shifted.</p><p> </p><p>Then it was over.</p><p> </p><p>I stood up slowly, no longer tired or dizzy. Something snaked along the floor, catching my eye as muscles twitched up and down my back. With one twitch, the thing slid closer to me. Another twitch, and it slid away.</p><p> </p><p>A tail. <em> My </em> tail.</p><p> </p><p>I felt behind me for the knife that Harding must have stuck into my back, causing me so much pain. But there was no knife in my back. Instead, I felt thin leather and long, thin bones. I looked down at my body, seeing long, muscular legs balanced on the tips of large, taloned feet. My hands were taloned, only four fingers each. And my skin was deep, midnight blue.</p><p> </p><p>My eyes drifted to the ring, now on my last finger. The diamond had changed from sparkling and clear to blue the color of my new skin.</p><p> </p><p>I looked down at Harding, who lay flat on his back, the knife just out of his reach, and saw fear in his bony face, even paler than his normal color. A growl came from within my chest.</p><p> </p><p>As I growled, my vision went red. Everything was sharper and brighter, and I felt my adrenaline surge. My skin felt tougher, my muscles felt stronger, and when I shifted my foot, my talons gouged long marks into the concrete floor.</p><p> </p><p>Harding let out a squeal of fear, snatching the knife off the ground and scrambling on his hands and heels away from me, cutting his hands on the shards of glass at the edges of the pile of frames.</p><p> </p><p>“This can’t be real! <em> This can’t be real!! WHAT ARE YOU?! </em>”</p><p> </p><p>My growl deepened, but a smile spread across my face.</p><p> </p><p>A siren started going off, loud and insistent, like an air raid from the 1940s. Harding’s head snapped up, surprise and panic outweighing his fear of me.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Armageddon Protocol?! </em>” He scrambled to his knees, crawling towards his coat.</p><p> </p><p>I sprung forward, faster than I had ever moved in my life. I slammed my tail into him, sending him tumbling backwards. Then I grabbed him by his thin neck and slammed him against the stone wall in one fluid movement.</p><p> </p><p>“No, no, no, I don’t think so, <em> President Harding </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>He swung his hand up towards me, the long knife in his hand. I saw it coming, as if he was moving sluggishly, and caught his hand in mine. He squeaked, then screamed as I tightened my grip, the bones in his hand snapping until he could no longer hold the knife, forcing him to drop it. His eyes darted to his coat.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, would you like your coat?” He looked back at me, his eyes wide and white. Above us we could hear screams and pounding footsteps, the guests exiting the Gehenna house.</p><p> </p><p>I reached forward with my tail. Instead of the jacket, I hooked the lantern with the tip of my tail, lifting it off the hook and flicking it into the coat. The glass smashed, the oil spreading over the dark fabric and going up in flame. A loud pop and a spark came from an inner jacket pocket.</p><p> </p><p>“The Doomsday Switch!<em> DAMMIT! </em> You’ve <em> ruined </em> us, you <em> MONSTER </em>!” Harding attempted to kick me in the stomach, but I tightened my grip on his throat.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>YOU’RE </em> the only monster here, Harding!” I snarled, a fearsome growl underneath my words. “And I’m going to make <em> sure </em> you never hurt anyone <em> AGAIN </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>I pulled back my arm and slammed him into the wall, knocking him out cold.</p><p> </p><p>I looked around his horrible basement laboratory. The pit with the rotting meat smell was most likely a mass grave, and I didn’t appreciate that I could smell it even more sharply in my new form. The silver table was covered with globs of congealed red. Deeper into the basement was another pit, an oven set into a wall, and meat hooks hanging from the ceiling. One of the hooks had a mostly decomposed skeleton on it.</p><p> </p><p>I walked over to the second pit, dragging the unconscious Harding behind me. There was a white, powdery substance piled up in heaps in along the bottom. A single, human foot peeked out from one heap.</p><p> </p><p>Quicklime. It wouldn’t <em> kill </em> him, but it would eat at his skin. I knew Matt and the police were preparing to raid the compound. If I put Harding in the quicklime pit, they would find him.</p><p> </p><p>Probably.</p><p> </p><p>At some point.</p><p> </p><p>I kicked his unconscious body into the pit, then grabbed the boards from the other pit, trying not to look inside it. It was possible that the chemical burns might wake him up, and if it did, I was going to make sure he never had a chance to escape. I placed the boards over the pit, then dragged the table over it, setting it upside down over the boards, allowing the table’s contents to fall into the pit as well. </p><p> </p><p>The siren continued to blare, and I realized that I had no idea where the stairs were. None were visible in the basement. I saw the golden lipstick tube and snatched it up with my taloned fingers, carefully pulling at the mesh collar of my dress to store it inside my bra, only slightly surprised to see that I hadn't torn my dress. I wondered if Evelyn had some kind of stylist sixth-sense about needing a dress that could accommodate sudden body changes in height, weight, bone structure, and wingedness. I went back to the chute I had fallen down and looked up, then at my brand new talons. I wasn’t sure how long my form would last, but if I was quick enough, I could get back to the third floor.</p><p> </p><p>I folded my wings around me and jumped up, talons on my fingers and toes puncturing the metal walls of the chute, and began to climb.</p><p> </p><p>- - -</p><p> </p><p>He had followed Melissa’s clues all the way to a small room with many doors. He tried all the doors, but saw that her keycard was on the floor near the center of the room. Kneeling down, he could barely make out the lines of a trap door.</p><p> </p><p>The sirens started going off not long after, and he scraped at the edges of the trapdoor, unable to get purchase on it.</p><p> </p><p>“Come on, <em> COME ON! </em> ” Brooklyn yelled, pounding at the trap door's metal panels. “ <em> MELISSA! </em> Come <em> ON! OPEN!</em> <em>MELISSA!!</em> <em>OPEN UP!! </em>”</p><p> </p><p>He slammed his fists on the trap door over and over again, his knuckles bleeding, yelling her name.</p><p> </p><p>Then the trap door shuddered. Someone was pounding on it from the other side. He backed up, hand on his ring, ready to transform into his gargoyle form in case whatever was on the other side was hostile.</p><p> </p><p>A fist burst through the trap door, then talons hooked onto the metal panels and tore them downward.</p><p> </p><p>An unfamiliar gargoyle popped their head up from the opening. They didn’t look anything like the rest of the Manhattan Clan, or like the gargoyles from the Wyvern Clan that Brooklyn remembered from one thousand years ago.</p><p> </p><p>This gargoyle was deep blue, with dark hair gathered in a bun near the base of her neck, the pointed tips of her long, thin ears sticking out from between twisted sections of hair. Long, ridged horns curved backwards over her hair, their base creating prominent brows over her eyes, tips slightly turned up at the ends. They were the same color as her skin near her brows, fading lighter and lighter to white at the tips. She looked up at him with dark eyes, her humanoid face breaking into a smile, showing white upper and lower fangs.</p><p> </p><p>“Brooklyn! Thank goodness!”</p><p> </p><p>She crawled out of the trap door, spreading her wings when she cleared the opening. The backs of them were deep black, while her under-wings faded from deep blue near the top to the same white as the tips of her horns at the bottom. When she stood upright, Brooklyn saw that she wore a purple dress.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Melissa?! </em>”</p><p> </p><p>- - -</p><p> </p><p>I beamed at Brooklyn, relieved to see him. “Yep! It’s me, in the brand-new blue flesh!”</p><p> </p><p>“But <em> how</em>? And where did you just come from?!”</p><p> </p><p>“I crawled up the chute from a murder basement. Don't ask, I'll tell you about it later. My ring had a last-ditch protection spell, and I guess the protection was to turn me into a gargoyle!” I held up the ring, tapping it with a talon. “I don’t know how long it’ll last, though, or if it’ll go away if I take the ring off. There are more important things to worry about right now. Like getting out of here?”</p><p> </p><p>He nodded. “We should leave while we can. If we head to the roof, we can get away without running into anyone. The last thing we need is to draw attention to ourselves, and you...you'll <em>definitely</em> draw some attention like that. Which means…” He pulled his ring off, enduring the horrible pain to get his gargoyle form back. He huffed from the transformation and shook out his wings. “It’s time for your first gliding lesson. Let's get to the roof!”</p><p> </p><p>“But we don’t know how to get out of this madhouse, it’s a maze!”</p><p> </p><p>“Then we cheat, and go straight through!” He jumped up, clinging to the ceiling, eyes glowing white, and smashed through it with his fist. “Follow me!”</p><p> </p><p>We smashed our way through two more floors, finally breaking through to the roof. We hid behind the top ridge of the roof, watching the guests run out of the house in a panic. The siren was echoing from around the forest, possibly from all four cities at once. From far away, we could hear the sound of helicopters.</p><p> </p><p>Brooklyn looked at me, then down at the ground below us. “There’s not much of an updraft here, we’re going to have to glide down and land unless a breeze comes out way.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, but, remember that I don't know how to glide, and I have a tiny little FEAR OF HEIGHTS?!”</p><p> </p><p>“No time for baby steps! Wings wide!” He grabbed my hand and jumped, pulling me off the roof with him.</p><p> </p><p>I flexed the muscles in my back, extending my wings fully, sucking in a breath to scream.</p><p> </p><p>Instead, my wings held me up, wind flowing beneath them.</p><p> </p><p>“Not bad, Blue! You’re a natural!” He winked.</p><p> </p><p>I squeezed Brooklyn’s hand and laughed, then looked down at the people running beneath us. The crossroads clearing came into view as we dipped lower. Some of the guests had finally noticed us and began screaming, running faster towards the clearing. Streams of guests were pouring into the crossroads, merging onto the path back to the entrance.</p><p> </p><p>We were almost to the clearing, about twenty feet above the pathway, when I felt the pain again.</p><p> </p><p>It was <em> excruciating </em>. I had been dizzy from blood loss, in pain from the cuts and my broken ankle, when the protection spell kicked in. The transformation had healed my cuts and my ankle, and the gargoyle body made me feel powerful. This time, when the snapping and cracking began, my mind went blank. All I could feel was pain.</p><p> </p><p>After what felt like a lifetime, I came-to, Brooklyn kneeling on the flagstone path and holding me. Guests screamed about monsters and hallucinations.</p><p> </p><p>“Melissa! Are you okay?!” Brooklyn’s brow bones lowered in worry, his wings curved around to shield me from the crowd, even though they were running around him in a wide arc. A few shot worried glances at me, no doubt wondering if they should ‘save me,’ but kept running anyway.</p><p> </p><p>“You weren’t kidding...about the pain…” I groaned. “Brooklyn, tell me: was the pain worth it? Was I a hot gargoyle?”</p><p> </p><p>He chuckled, gently cradling me. “Definitely. Wish you could have seen yourself.”</p><p> </p><p>I looked at my ring. The stone had returned to clear, but now it was cracked down the middle.</p><p> </p><p>A bright light flashed over us. We both looked up to see several helicopters circling around, searchlights picking out the guests along the pathways. One of the helicopters made an announcement from a speaker attached to the underside of it.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>THIS IS THE NEW YORK DEPARTMENT OF ENVIRONMENTAL CONSERVATION! YOU ARE TRESPASSING ON STATE PROPERTY IN A RESTRICTED AREA! STAY WHERE YOU ARE!” </em></p><p> </p><p>I looked up at Brooklyn. “You need to go! It’s not just going to be Matt and Hudson up in those helicopters, and if you guys get caught there’s no telling <em> what </em> they’d do to you!”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not leaving you here! I’ll just transform back!” He took his ring out of the pocket of the remnants of his slacks, but I sat up and put my hand over his, stopping him.</p><p> </p><p>“There’s no time, and you’re safer as a gargoyle! We don’t know if Goliath and the others found Elisa yet, and we don’t know what else is coming our way.”</p><p> </p><p>He helped me stand up. “Are you <em>sure</em>?!” More people surged past us as the helicopter searchlights swung back and forth. We were lucky that none had landed on Brooklyn yet.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes! I’ll be fine, go find the others, and stay out of sight!”</p><p> </p><p>He slipped between the trees and dug his talons into the one’s trunk, climbing up. “Go to the crossroads! I’ll come back and get you when the coast is clear!” He yelled down at me before pushing off of one tree trunk and grabbing onto another.</p><p> </p><p>I walked slowly towards the crossroads clearing, keeping to the side to avoid the remaining guests who were rushing towards the exit. My body ached from the transformation. I was glad that the cuts and broken ankle hadn’t come back, and that Brooklyn had been able to catch me before I fell to the ground, but a full recovery was going to take quite a few hot baths and at least a week’s worth of rest.</p><p> </p><p>I was thinking about a scalding hot bath when I set foot into the crossroads clearing.</p><p> </p><p>The silence was sudden and deafening. I looked around confused, seeing that the guests who had been running and screaming, the helicopters that were hovering overhead, even what I could see of Brooklyn as he made his way through the forest, were all frozen in place.</p><p><br/>
“ <em> Finally </em>!”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>(May 13 2020) I went back and fixed a continuity error in this chapter based on a later chapter, if you read this chapter before this date, then please give it another read-through!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0052"><h2>52. Fifty Two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mephistopheles and Melissa make a deal.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I wondered when you’d get here!”</p><p> </p><p>I searched through the frozen figures until I saw the one person still moving.</p><p> </p><p>Standing in the middle of the crossroads clearing was Mephistopheles.</p><p> </p><p>I looked back at the frozen guests. “...Magic?”</p><p> </p><p>He scratched at his patchy scruff, smiling approvingly. “I’m surprised you’ve caught on so quickly. Most humans freak out.”</p><p> </p><p>“A few minutes ago a spell that was put on my ring turned <em> me </em> into a gargoyle. Temporarily, I mean. ‘Magic’ seems like a good guess for this.” I gestured to the still crowd.</p><p> </p><p>“Fair enough. But I didn't do this just for fun."</p><p> </p><p>He motioned me forward, then sat down, landing in a deep green leather armchair that had appeared out of nowhere. As I moved towards him, another green leather armchair appeared beside him for me to sit in.</p><p> </p><p>“So,” he began after I had taken my seat. “I’m magical. As you can see.” I nodded. “And most people think I’m a demon, because of the play.”</p><p> </p><p>“Because of the <em>plays</em>. And other versions of the Faust legend. The original was a folktale, I believe?”</p><p> </p><p>He smiled, the wrinkles around his eyes deep, his upper and lower fangs sharp. Yet, his smile was warm. Which meant that whenever he looked malicious or terrifying, it was definitely on purpose.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, you are, <em> by far </em> , my favorite human of this century. Yes, <em> all </em> the <em> multiple </em> stories show me as a demon.”</p><p> </p><p>“But, you’re not?”</p><p> </p><p>He shook his head and sighed. “No, Faust twisted the story to make it seem like he had been unjustly tricked into making a deal. He took the deal almost immediately, none of that ‘summoning a demon’ stuff. Honestly, it made <em> me </em> look bad.”</p><p> </p><p>I nodded, waiting for him to go on.</p><p> </p><p>“No,” he sighed, sitting back in the armchair and steepling his fingers, eyes raised up to the sky. “I am no demon. I am but a humble member of the Third Race.”</p><p> </p><p>“The...Third Race? I’m not familiar with that term…”</p><p> </p><p>He held up his fingers as he counted. “Three races. And I’m not putting them in order or anything, just so you know. You’ve got humans, you’ve got gargoyles, which you’re already familiar with, and you’ve got the Third Race. Humans have had plenty of dealings with <em> us </em>, but that’s dwindled over the past few centuries or so. We’ve had to get more subtle.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m still not sure what you mean…”</p><p> </p><p>He sighed, swiping a hand over his face. “Some people call us fae?”</p><p> </p><p>“Fae? Like fairies? You’re a <em> fairy </em>?”</p><p> </p><p>Mephistopheles groaned. “<em>I guess </em> it could be considered ‘correct’ to call us ‘fairies.’ We <em> prefer </em>‘the Third Race.’ Not all of us wear little green dresses and fly around spreading sparkles everywhere!”</p><p> </p><p>“So, <em> you’re </em> a ‘member of the Third Race,’ which have been mentioned in countless folktales, myths, and legends. Who else is a ‘member’ from folklore?”</p><p> </p><p>“Almost any magical creature in any folktale or legend or myth. But we've been featured prominently elsewhere.” When I looked at him in confusion, he groaned again. “Like a certain <em> Puck </em> from a certain <em> play </em> by a certain <em> playwright </em>.” He said it through clenched teeth.</p><p> </p><p><em>“A Midsummer Night's Dream?</em>" He nodded curtly. "Puck, as in Robin Goodfellow?”</p><p> </p><p>“He never actually liked the name 'Robin Goodfellow.' Oberon gave it to him, but he <em>preferred</em> ‘Puck.’”</p><p> </p><p>“Wait, Puck and Oberon are <em>real</em>? As in, <em>real</em>?!”</p><p> </p><p>Mephistopheles smiled again, but his smile was bitter. “Yes. But let’s get back to <em> you </em> and <em> me </em> . I didn’t freeze time <em> just </em> to give you a lesson on the Third Race.”</p><p> </p><p>“So why<em> did </em> you freeze time?”</p><p> </p><p>“We needed to talk, uninterrupted. And with all this chaos, a time freeze was the best way to get your attention and get some peace and quiet.” He cleared his throat. “Melissa, I want to make a deal with you.”</p><p> </p><p>At the word ‘deal,’ my skin prickled, like static shock was building up in my body, then faded away.</p><p> </p><p>“What kind of <em> deal </em>?” I asked warily. Most deals between fairies and humans went very poorly for the humans, and I wasn't sure if the feeling had just been my nerves, or if it had been a spell.</p><p> </p><p>He stood and began pacing leisurely, weaving around frozen guests. “It’s come to my attention that the ‘man’ who claimed to be your ‘fiancé’ isn’t exactly ‘human.’”</p><p> </p><p>“Brooklyn.” Mephistopheles nodded, a small, sharp smile on his lips. “You’re right. He’s a gargoyle. Part of the rescue plan was to sneak the gargoyles from New York City into the party as humans. They each had an enchanted ring that changed them into a human when they put it on.”</p><p> </p><p>Mephistopheles nodded, reaching out to straighten a panicked guest’s tie. “While you got one that temporarily transformed you into a gargoyle?”</p><p> </p><p>“In an emergency. More for protection than disguise.” I was calm, but I wasn't sure why. In the back of my mind, I wondered if this was because of whatever magic he cast when he said the word ‘deal.’</p><p> </p><p>He nodded. “It’s also come to my attention that you’ve been having <em>trysts</em> with that particular gargoyle? The one playacting as your fiancé.”</p><p> </p><p>I felt my face go red. “Yes. I want to ask <em> how </em> you know that, but I get the feeling I won’t like the answer.”</p><p> </p><p>“I can tell you that I didn’t find out as a <em> voyeur </em> , if that’s what you’re worried about. That’s not really my style.” He reached out and caught hold of a woman’s dangling diamond earring between his fingers, studying it. “But let's focus. Have you considered that your <em> relationship </em> might have a time limit?”</p><p> </p><p>My heart twisted in my chest. “I...I haven’t had time to think about it.”</p><p> </p><p>He came to sit in his armchair again, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped together. “I’m not trying to say that it’ll be over soon. I mean, it <em> could </em> be over soon, as soon as tomorrow, even. Or it could last all the way until you die. Or somewhere in between! But, you realize that gargoyles live a <em> lot </em> longer than humans, right?” </p><p> </p><p>“It...makes sense…”</p><p> </p><p>“And do you realize that your paramour is on the <em>younger</em> side for a gargoyle?”</p><p> </p><p>I narrowed my eyes. “How ‘younger?’”</p><p> </p><p>He scratched at his stubble again. “Equivalent to 18 or 19 in human years?”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> WHAT?! </em> ” I clutched at the armchair. “You’re telling me that Brooklyn, who told me that he’s <em> over ONE THOUSAND years old </em> , is <em> YOUNGER </em> than me?!”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Psychologically </em> , and in <em> gargoyle years</em>, yes. Essentially. You didn’t know?” I felt my face grow hot again, and he threw his head back and laughed at my expression. “Don't feel bad, snatching up a <em>younger</em> man is supposed to be brag-worthy!”</p><p> </p><p>I sat forward with my hands over my face. “His Gen X attitude makes <em> so much sense </em> now.”</p><p> </p><p>“Calm down. <em> You’re </em> in ‘Generation X,’ too. And compared to how long we of the Third Race live, gargoyles and humans are all practically babies.” Mephistopheles sat back with an amused smile on his lips. “You’re, what, 24? And a half?”</p><p> </p><p>I looked over my fingertips at him. “How did…”</p><p> </p><p>He waved his hand, sparks flying off of his fingers like tiny fireworks. “Magical being who’s been around humans for hundreds of years, remember? I’ve gotten pretty good at guessing ages. And besides.” He sat back, crossing one leg over the other. “If he <em> was </em> human, he would actually be <em> older </em> than you. He’s physically lived longer than you, even when you subtract that one thousand years thing. Gargoyles just...mature more slowly than humans.”</p><p> </p><p>I hid my face in my hands again and groaned.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I’d <em>say</em> I’m sorry for bringing that up, but that actually leads perfectly into the whole point I’m trying to make: You and this Brooklyn fellow are members of races whose lifespans are completely different lengths. You are both going to age <em>very </em>differently. And if you both live long enough to die natural deaths, you’re going out first, sweetheart.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>What </em> did you just call me?!” I slammed my hands on the armchair, glaring at him.</p><p> </p><p>Mephistopheles raised his hands in surrender. “<em> Okay </em>, not a fan of endearments. Got it. But it doesn’t make me any less right.” </p><p> </p><p>He leaned forward again, his voice becoming gentle, without a smile on his face.“As a human, you’re going to die before him, Melissa. And you’ll lap him in the maturity department on the way. Are you <em> sure </em> you want to be with a 40-ish year old when you’re 80?”</p><p> </p><p>I stayed silent, my heart twisting so much it was hard to breathe.</p><p> </p><p>He leaned further forward. “And think of the reverse. Is a 40-ish year old going to want to be with you when you’re 80?”</p><p> </p><p>“What about love? Isn’t <em> love </em> enough to keep two people together?” I could hear the despair and fear in my own voice.</p><p> </p><p>“Is it?” He looked at me with pity. Not sympathy or empathy. <em> Pity </em> . He saw how much this was hurting me, and it made <em> him </em> uncomfortable. “If your love lasts a long time, then that's wonderful. Congratulations. But you have no idea if your love has an expiration date, and if it does, it definitely won’t be announced <em>ahead of time</em>. Love isn’t guaranteed to last. It's hard for mortals to admit it, but it's the truth.” </p><p> </p><p>Suddenly, the armchair I had been sitting in had turned into a couch, and Mephistopheles was seated next to me, putting an arm around my shoulders in a show of pity disguised as sympathy. “Look, I’m not trying to upset you, I’m just trying to get you to step back and take a look at reality.”</p><p> </p><p>Tears welled up in my eyes. I was furious that he kept heaping pity on me when I knew he didn’t <em> really </em> care. I was embarrassed that he seemed to have thought more about Brooklyn and I’s relationship than I had. I was upset that he wasn’t just accepting ‘love’ as the answer to the future. </p><p> </p><p>And I was terrified that he was right.</p><p> </p><p>He sat back, moving his arm from around my shoulders to the back of the couch. “So now that you know what’s at stake, will you hear me out? Let me describe the terms of the deal, then you can take a minute to consider it.”</p><p> </p><p>I nodded, trying to stay calm.</p><p> </p><p>“Great.” He clapped his hands together, and he was back in his own armchair, the couch turning back into a chair as well. The static electricity feeling came over me again.</p><p> </p><p>“You want to be able to be with Brooklyn for however long your relationship lasts, right? If that was the end of it, I <em> could </em> just turn you into a gargoyle. <em> But </em> -” He held up a hand, stopping me from interrupting him. “-let me guess, you still want to be around your friends and family. And probably stay somewhat human? Can you confirm that what I’ve said is correct so far?”</p><p> </p><p>“For the most part.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good. Moving on. This <em> would </em> be a classic case of ‘can’t have your cake and eat it too,’ if there wasn’t a <em> third </em> option. The <em> Third Race </em> option.”</p><p> </p><p>The static in the air increased, feeling hot and sharp. A humming noise like the sound of fluorescent lights surrounded us. And something was happening to Mephistopheles. The torches around the clearing and along the paths began to dim.</p><p> </p><p>The edges of his hands and his head began to get hazy, black mist and globules seeping out of his exposed skin.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> I will grant you entry into the Third Race </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>His voice became distorted, black mist drifting out of his mouth. The mist from his skin began to drift upwards, slowly obscuring his face. The globules slid upwards towards the sky, leaving trails of dark ooze as they went. His eyes were clear and hungry. The torches burned even dimmer.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> I will make you a minor fae, immortal and able to change shape. You will be able to appear to be aging to your human companions, while continuing to live alongside your paramour. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>More globules seeped from his skin, and more mist covered his face. I could still see his eyes, as if the mist was leaving a clear path to them, the wrinkles dark and welling up with the same dark liquid as the globules, releasing small spheres into the air with the mist. The frozen guests around me started to look ghoulish, twisted.</p><p> </p><p>His voice sounded far away and close, a scream and a whisper, one voice and many. Small sparks began dancing along my skin. The humming grew louder. The torches began to shine with a dark, terrible light. The guests became monstrous. They were turning, inch by inch, to face me.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> In return, upon the death of your paramour, you will forfeit your soul and enter into my service as my slave, doing as I wish, as I command. You shall be my slave for eternity, until I release you, or until I am ended. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Where his face and hands had been, there was only mist and ooze, drifting upward, cutting trails into the air. The light of the torches was dark but blinding. Mephistopheles was darker still, a void against a black backdrop. And yet his eyes, bright, sharp, feverish, <em>feral</em>, cut through the inky darkness.</p><p> </p><p>When had these twisted visions of ghouls surrounded us? How long had they been staring at us with hunger in their blank eyes?</p><p> </p><p>“<em> I, Mephistopheles, give you my binding word that I will faithfully keep these terms. Do we have a deal, Melissa Campbell? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Sparks flashed, stinging me as they ran over my skin, my hair, my clothes. The humming was so loud, so close, my teeth ached, pressure building inside of my skull. My eyes watered from the darkness.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Yes...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Say yes...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>SAY YES...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>SAY...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>YES...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“No!” I gasped.</p><p> </p><p>The torches shone their normal light, at their regular brightness. The guests remained frozen in their original places, looking just as they had when I first came into the clearing. There was silence.</p><p> </p><p>Mephistopheles wasn't covered in black mist or globules, but his eyes were still bright and sharp.</p><p> </p><p>With surprise.</p><p> </p><p>Mephistopheles was <em> surprised </em> . And he was <em> surprised </em> that he was surprised.</p><p> </p><p>“I...I’m sorry, come again?” Something like wonder crept into his otherwise normal voice.</p><p> </p><p>“I said, 'no.'” I shook with fear and weakness. The pressure he had exerted on me to say ‘yes’ had nearly killed me.</p><p> </p><p>He stared at me, slowly shaking his head.</p><p> </p><p>“I….uh….this…..this has never happened to me before.” An involuntary smile twitched in the corners of his mouth. “Um…...<em> why </em>, exactly, are you saying ‘no?’”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve got some issues with the terms.”</p><p> </p><p>He barked out a laugh. “‘Issues with the terms!’ <em> Amazing</em>!" He laughed heartily. "You’ve just made yourself my favorite human <em> of all time </em> ! Just... <em> wow </em>!” He broke down into wholeheartedly and utterly delighted laughter.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I liked <em> parts </em> of the deal, though?” I smiled tentatively. I liked <em> this </em> Mephistopheles much more than the scary mist creature he had been a moment ago.</p><p> </p><p>He wiped tears away from his eyes as his laughter subsided. “What parts did you like?” He sat back in his chair, chuckling.</p><p> </p><p>“Everything up until that ‘forfeit my soul and become your slave’ part.”</p><p> </p><p>Mephistopheles’ amusement died away. “That’s the offer, Melissa. Soul and slave. It’s standard procedure.”</p><p> </p><p>“It sounds more like <em> precedent </em> to me. You tried this deal with Faust.” He glowered at me, the wrinkles around his eyes deepening in anger. “I’ll rephrase that. The <em> stories </em> say that you tried a deal <em> like this </em> with Faust, first.”</p><p> </p><p>“Fine. But your deal is <em>significantly</em> better. You get to do whatever you wish, along with being <em>immortal</em> and being able to <em> shapeshift </em>, if I could remind you, until Brooklyn dies. I won’t bother you until then, when you would, yes, forfeit your soul and become my slave.”</p><p> </p><p>“And that’s not the deal I’m willing to make.”</p><p> </p><p>“So, we’re at an impasse.” He scowled. "I <em>hate</em> impasses."</p><p> </p><p>“We're not at an impasse just yet. I’ve got a counteroffer. If you'll allow it.”</p><p> </p><p>He stared at me, sizing me up, then raised an eyebrow. “I’m listening.”</p><p> </p><p>“We could keep most of it. Minor fae with shapeshifting and immortality, so I can live out a ‘normal’ life as a human <em> and </em> an extended one with Brooklyn-”</p><p> </p><p>“-For as long as he’ll have you,” Mephistopheles cut in, a cruel smile sliding across his face. I stared at him.</p><p> </p><p>“...An extended life with Brooklyn for as long as <em> we’re together </em>,” I said coldly. His smile melted away and he reluctantly nodded, motioning for me to continue. “But instead of my soul and enslavement afterwards, I keep my soul."</p><p> </p><p>He frowned, displeased, but I held my hand up. “I <em> keep </em> my soul, and I become your <em> secretary </em> from the very start, instead of later.”</p><p> </p><p>“My...<em> secretary.</em>” He absently scratched at his scruff. “<em>Not </em> my slave.”</p><p> </p><p>“Correct.”</p><p> </p><p>He stood and paced again, looking at the guests, this time his hands clasped behind his back. “You'd become my secretary from the moment you become a minor fae. I’d get to summon you when I need you?”</p><p> </p><p>“If I’m not doing something more important, yes.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh? 'Something' more <em>important</em>? Something like <em>what</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>“Like assisting in the rescue of a kidnapped NYPD detective.”</p><p> </p><p>He nodded, then smiled slyly. “Or if you’re...<em> with </em> your paramour.” He winked, chuckling at my renewed blush. “I’ll add that one in for free. As my <em>secretary</em>, you’d do as I wish and command?”</p><p> </p><p>“No. I want to be able to refuse to do what you ask. I want free will.” He looked at me skeptically. “You just said I’m your favorite human <em> ever </em>,” I pointed out. “Is it possible that I’m your favorite because I just stood up to you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Hmm, maybe. So what?”</p><p> </p><p>“I stood up to you because your deal was unfair <em> from a human’s perspective </em> .” He paused for a long moment, but eventually nodded again. “<em>So</em> it seems like a <em> human’s perspective </em>could be really useful to you, but that perspective comes from <em>free will</em>. If I don't have free will, I won't be valuable to you. If you try to command me to do something that would be bad <em> according to humans </em> , I want to have the free will to <em> refuse </em> to do it.”</p><p> </p><p>He scratched his scruff. “How about you have the right to <em> argue against </em> doing as I command, but still have to do it anyway if I desire?”</p><p> </p><p>I hesitated. “I'll do something if you really, <em>really</em> want me to, even if I'm against it, as long as I've gotten the chance to argue against it <em>and</em> it has nothing to do with hurting innocents. Final offer.”</p><p> </p><p>He paced back and sat in the armchair. “Let me just parse this out, make sure we’ve both got it straight. I turn you into a minor fae who is immortal and can shapeshift, here and now, and you’ll get to pretend to live out your human life <em> and </em> an extended life with Brooklyn as long as you’re together. And in return, you’ll become my secretary, here and now, who I can summon when I need <em> unless </em> you’re doing something <em> you </em> deem ‘more important’ or having to do with Brooklyn. I'll give you tasks that I want you to do, but you'll retain the right to argue against doing something I ask you to do. Should I still want you to do the task, the requirements are that I hear your argument first, and that it wouldn't be something that would physically…” He looked at me. “...or psychologically?” I nodded eagerly, and he sighed. “Nothing that would physically or psychologically hurt an innocent.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes. <em> I </em> think that’s a much better deal for <em> both </em> of us. What do you say, Mephistopheles?”</p><p> </p><p>He rubbed his hand over his mouth. “You know what? I’m in.”</p><p> </p><p>“Really?!” I sighed with relief.</p><p> </p><p>“Really. But we have to complete a binding ritual to make it official. And I've already tried the 'ominous eldritch creature' binding ritual. I don't feel like repeating it. So how about we do something a little <em>different</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>He snapped his fingers.</p><p> </p><p>The floor of the clearing was wood and shiny, like the dancefloor of a ballroom. Scattered among the guests were faceless, humanoid forms wearing tuxedos, sitting in chairs, playing various orchestral instruments. An orchestra entirely of mannequins. Small lights twinkled above our heads, as if the stars had drawn closer to watch us. The chairs had disappeared, and we were both standing in the middle of the clearing.</p><p> </p><p>“What the hell…” I looked at Mephistopheles and saw that he was now wearing an exact replica of the Beast's ballroom outfit from <em> Beauty and the Beast</em>. I looked down to see that my purple cocktail dress had been magically exchanged for Belle’s yellow ball gown. "Oh you've <em>got</em> to be <em>kidding</em>!"</p><p> </p><p>The scattered mannequin orchestra began an unfamiliar classical song. He pulled me towards him, his right hand just under my shoulder blade, his left hand grasping my right, holding my arm out to the side, and began leading me in a waltz.</p><p> </p><p>The classical waltz floated along, sounding almost as if it could have been in <em> The Nutcracker </em>. Mephistopheles hummed along and led me through the still crowd, expertly avoiding each guest. He would spin me every few seconds, so fast and so often that I began to feel dizzy.</p><p> </p><p>“What the<em> HELL </em>are you doing?!” I yelled at him, starting to feel sick.</p><p> </p><p>"A binding ritual! I don't get to do it very often, most people just take the scary eldritch monster ritual, but this one's much more fun!" He kept humming along to the song, spinning and spinning. “It’s Shostakovich! 'The Second Waltz,' totally underappreciated!” </p><p> </p><p>“<em>STOP SPINNING ME! </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“Not possible! It's all part of the ritual! Besides, isn't this what you <em>dreamed</em> of? What you’ve imagined in all those little stories you love?” </p><p> </p><p><em> Spin. </em> The song led on, rising and falling, the guests' faces blurring past me.</p><p> </p><p>“An enchanting ballroom, a lovely-yet-humble protagonist who’s just cut through the icy emotional walls to the warm and vulnerable heart of the sexy-yet-understated antihero by standing up to him!” </p><p> </p><p><em> Spin. </em> I reached into the bodice of my dress while I was turned away from him in mid-spin, hoping it was still there. My fingers closed on metal.</p><p> </p><p>“He does a grand gesture, full of magic, music, and dancing, bringing the very <em>stars</em> to witness them seal the deal that will bind her to him!” </p><p> </p><p><em> Spin. </em>The orchestra swelled, leading up to the last few notes of the song.</p><p> </p><p><em>Spin. </em>The metal tube was concealed in my left hand, which rested on his shoulder. He was too caught up in the dancing to notice.</p><p> </p><p>“And at the end of the dance, the <em>apex</em> of the grand gesture, the <em>pièce de résistance</em>!”</p><p> </p><p>The song ended, the mannequin orchestra as still as the guests we had danced between. The last spin ended in a picture perfect dip, one of his arms wrapped around my waist, the other along my back so he could cradle my head in his hand.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>The kiss! </em>”</p><p> </p><p>He leaned down towards me, eyes closed. I would have almost thought he was taking it seriously if he hadn't been leaning towards me with his mouth wide open, like Brooklyn had when he was learning to kiss in his human form.</p><p> </p><p>He looked ridiculous, and it was the perfect opportunity.</p><p> </p><p>I took the golden lipstick tube that I had retrieved from my bra mid-spin, held it up to his mouth, and pressed the jeweled rose on the top. He inhaled in surprise, sucking in all of the paralytic mist. He started choking and dropped me.</p><p> </p><p>I yelped when I hit the pathway, now back to stone.The mannequin orchestra was gone, and the stars were back up in the sky where they belonged.  I was back in my purple dress, and Mephistopheles was in his emerald suit and pink tie. He stumbled backwards, catching himself and leaning heavily on the nearest frozen guest. He couldn't hold himself up for long, and slid to the ground, slumping onto his back, head lolling so his eyes could wander around until they landed on me.</p><p> </p><p>“Wwwwwwha’dya gimme?” He slurred.</p><p> </p><p>“Uh, I gave you a paralytic?” He blinked, then began rocking his head from side-to-side, giggling. “How can you still move? You’re supposed to be <em>paralyzed</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“Pshhhhhhh, Imma <em> fairy-demon-thing </em> . Thistuff’s nah gonna doit.” He lifted his hands up, turning them over and back and giggling more. “Mmmmmmmmmm <em> magic! </em>” A single, small spark popped out from his finger, making him giggle harder until he suddenly pouted. “You roooned it! You rooooned the rich'el.”</p><p> </p><p>“I really don’t care that I ruined the ritual, Mephistopheles. I wasn’t going to let you kiss me." I blinked. "Oh my <em>god</em>, and you <em>knew</em> that, <em>didn't you?!</em>”</p><p> </p><p>He smiled and laughed. “Yaaaaaaaah, Idid. Jus wan’ed t'see whachyd do.”</p><p> </p><p>I stood up, brushing off as much dirt from my dress as I could, and went to stand over him, arms crossed. “Well, now you've seen what I would do if you tried to kiss me." I looked at the frozen guests, then back at him. "Can you please unfreeze everyone now?”</p><p> </p><p>“NOOOOOOOO, we gotta DEAL the SEAL!”</p><p> </p><p>I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Okay, so how do we seal the deal <em> without a kiss </em>?”</p><p> </p><p>“No omnius monsser, <em> no kissssssssing </em>, so BOOOOOORIIIIIIING!” He broke into giggles again.</p><p> </p><p>“Mephistopheles?" I spoke slowly, with the kind of patience I save for our most unreasonable patrons. "How do we seal this deal without a kiss <em> and </em> without the creepy mist?”</p><p> </p><p>He groaned, then lifted a wobbly arm up to me. “Shakey shake.” He wiggled his fingers.</p><p> </p><p>“And you’ll be able to turn me into a minor fae?”</p><p> </p><p>“Mmmmmmhmmmmmmmm!” He wiggled his arm. "C'moooooonn. Shakey shake."</p><p> </p><p>“You'll be able to turn me into a minor fae <em>while you're in this state</em>?” I raised my brows.</p><p> </p><p>“UghhhhHHHHHHHHHH FINE! Gimmesec.” He dropped his arm and shut his eyes and inhaled deeply. A shimmering wave passed over his body. When he exhaled, a white mist came out of his mouth.</p><p> </p><p>He coughed and opened his eyes. “<em> There </em>. All better, no more spins or wobbles. Shame, though, that was fun! In case you're wondering, it <em>definitely</em> would have knocked out a human.” He remained spread out on the ground and held his arm up again, free of wiggles and wobbles. “Shake on it, and we’ll seal the deal.”</p><p> </p><p>“And that deal <em> is </em>…?” He glared at me, but I glared back. “I've read a lot of ‘little stories,’ I know the wording’s important.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I’m not repeating it all over again. How about this.” He cleared his throat. His voice became distorted, like it had during the first binding ritual. </p><p> </p><p>“<em> I, Mephistopheles, give you my binding word that I will faithfully keep the terms we agreed on most recently. </em><em>Do we have a deal, Melissa Campbell? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>He held up his hand, and this time, I shook it.</p><p> </p><p>I thought the transformation would be long and painful, like going from gargoyle to human had been. Instead, it was a quick flash of light, the sound of a pop, and a sting, like I had touched a doorknob that shocked me.</p><p> </p><p>Then it was over.</p><p> </p><p>I looked down at myself, at my hands. I felt the tips of my ears and ran my tongue over my teeth. Everything seemed normal.</p><p> </p><p>Mephistopheles laughed. I looked up to see him seated once more in a green, leather armchair.</p><p> </p><p>“The only changes that’ll happen to you <em>now</em> are the ones you <em>will</em> to happen,” he said. He yawned and leaned his head on his hand, slumping in the chair. “That was good fun, Melissa. Welcome to the Third Race. I’ll be in touch.”</p><p> </p><p>Then he was gone.</p><p> </p><p>Sound returned to the clearing, footsteps and screaming loud in my ears. Guests rushed past me, jostling me around in the dash to get past me, away from the helicopters, police, and monsters.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>YouTube link to a fun performance of the waltz mentioned above: https://youtu.be/vauo4o-ExoY</p><p>A note about Melissa’s age - I hadn’t set an age for Melissa until now because when I first started writing this, I legitimately hadn’t thought about it. It only came to my attention that her age might be important after I started researching more details about the Gargoyles universe. I’ve been using the Gargoyles Wiki (https://gargoyles.fandom.com/wiki/Gargoyles_Wiki), which informed me that Brooklyn’s gargoyle age is around 18 during the time of the cartoon series (he’d been around for 36 human years, but gargoyle maturity makes him ~18). And I had /no/ idea that he was supposed to be that young!!</p><p>Anyway, I wanted to state Melissa's age to address that /wild (to me)/ piece of information. I figured that she would be about 24 based on this:<br/>-Melissa went to a four-year college and graduated on-time at 22 (probably a double-major in History and English Literature or something, she seems hella academically ambitious).<br/>-Then, she got her Masters of Science in Library Science at 23 from a one-year program (most programs are one year; also she probably did concentrations in Reference and/or Academic Libraries).<br/>-By the time of this story, Fatimah has been missing for three years, going on four, which means she went missing when Melissa was still in undergrad. If Melissa started working for the NYPL as soon as she graduated, it’d make sense that she would have been there for at least a year, putting her at 24.<br/>-I added another 6 months so that she’d have a deeper connection with Jack and Clara (Jack’s into being friends with his coworkers, Clara like to keep it more professional but Jack’s worn her down over the years he’s been there so she’s more open to being friendly with coworkers) but not necessarily know them /super/ well.</p><p>I hope all of that makes sense!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0053"><h2>53. Fifty Three</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Brooklyn reunites with Goliath and the others, while Melissa and Hudson make their way to the rendezvous point. And whatever happened to Doctor Sevarius?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Helicopters crossed the night sky above, search lights swiveling around. Several hovered above pathways or clearings. Ropes from the helicopters allowed people in dark riot armor to descend into the chaos.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Through the woods, more lights bounced up and down and between trees, armored vehicles carried even more officers to the Cities of the Four Horsemen. Guests who scattered off the pathways into the woods were rounded up. One guest knew pressing a concealed button made the solid rock wall covering the entrance tunnel slide up. Other guests followed them, pushing through the tunnel that had led them into the Cities, only to exit into the clearing surrounded by even more officers and vehicles.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brooklyn jumped from branch to branch, climbing higher when he needed to avoid beams of light from the ground, lower to escape the light from the helicopters above, making his way towards Zebolim to search for the others.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Had they found Elisa? He hadn’t kept his communicator sticker activated. With all the noise the guests were making, he doubted turning it on now would help.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He hoped Melissa would be alright in the crowd. She would be weak from the transformation, but she had been right. He needed to find the others, and to stay out of sight unless he transformed again. He knew that even if he </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> transform, he could still be taken into custody. And it would be hard to explain how he had ended up wearing nothing but the remnants of torn-up slacks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Something was coming towards him in the treetops. Melissa had said they didn’t know what else was in the Cities. Brooklyn prepared himself for a fight, his eyes glowing white, his skin toughening and his talons sharpening.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who’s there?” He shouted at the shadow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Brooklyn!” Lexington shouted back. “Glad we found you!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brooklyn landed on a branch facing Lexington. “Where’s everyone else?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Down here!” Broadway’s voice called up from the ground below. “We found Elisa!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Goliath, Broadway, and Bronx stood at the base of the trees, looking up at Lexington and Brooklyn. Goliath was in his gargoyle form, while Broadway and Bronx had stayed in their temporary transformations. Elisa was leaning on Goliath, and Broadway held another person in his arms.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Elisa!” Brooklyn crawled down the trunk until he could safely jump down. “They found you! Are you okay?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Apart from a few bruises and a sore shoulder, I’m fine.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And who’s this?” Brooklyn pointed at the woman Broadway was holding.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My friend Fatimah. I had to knock her out to stop her from hurting herself. Hopefully she’ll have gotten Doctor Sevarius’ drugs out of her system by the time she wakes up.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>SEVARIUS</span>
  </em>
  <span>? He’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span>?! He’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>supposed</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>DEAD</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” Brooklyn growled. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Where is he</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hopefully in police custody,” Goliath replied. “After getting a sound beating from his test subjects.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>He’s gotta pay for what he did to Maggie</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” Brooklyn shouted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Goliath put a hand on Brooklyn’s shoulder. “He has to pay for a lot more than just that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And I’m going to make sure he gets booked for </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> of it,” Elisa said. “He’ll never see daylight again. Let’s see how </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> likes being a prisoner.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, where’s Melissa?” Lexington had climbed down the tree a little ways, keeping an eye on their surroundings.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Elisa looked up at Lexington, then over at Brooklyn. “Melissa? The librarian I brought to the clock tower? What’s she doing </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She wanted to help us find and rescue you!” Brooklyn said proudly. “She’s waiting back at the crossroads. Hey, did you know her ring could turn her into a </span>
  <em>
    <span>gargoyle</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?!” Lexington slid down the tree trunk a little more, curious. “But how? It didn’t transform her when she first put it on!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She said something about a last-ditch protection spell. She turned back pretty quickly. It took a lot out of her so she sent me on ahead. I need to go back and get her!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can’t,” Broadway said, stepping back when Brooklyn turned to glare at him. “Not unless you change back into a human, I mean! There’s tons of police still out there!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Goliath nodded. “Broadway’s right, Brooklyn.” He lifted his hand, touching the inside of his ear. “Hudson? Are you there?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hudson’s voice came over the communicator sticker. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Goliath! Is everyone safe? I could barely make out what was happening over all the noise!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’re safe, for the most part. Are you still with Detective Bluestone?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Aye, we landed in the clearing in front of a cave. They found one of the Horsemen, the one in gold armor</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We need you to retrieve Melissa from the crossroads. Head down the path, you should be able to find her.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Aye lad, will do</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Goliath!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Matt’s voice jumped in. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ve got a private rendezvous point for picking all of you up. Everyone needs to make their way a mile due South of the Zebolim location. Looks like there’s an abandoned movie set in the woods. I’ll meet you all there with a van. It won’t be the most comfortable ride home, but it’ll keep all of you out of sight</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We will meet you there.” Goliath tapped his ear again, then looked at Brooklyn. “Hudson will take care of Melissa.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brooklyn glanced worriedly over his shoulder. “I don’t know…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Broadway shook his head with a smile. “Brooklyn, she’ll be </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Here, hold her.” He quickly handed Fatimah to Brooklyn, who almost dropped her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey!” Brooklyn looked up and saw Broadway take a deep breath, then remove his ring.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After he finished transforming, Broadway wiped away the sweat on his brow. “I hope I don’t have to do that again anytime soon.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Elisa gasped. “Broadway, are you okay?! That looked awful!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s no big deal. It just hurts. A lot. But only for a little while. Here,” he held out his hands, taking Fatimah back. “I’ll move faster this way!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lexington jumped to the ground, going over to Bronx. “How about you, Bronx?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bronx whined, but lowered his head towards Lexington, exposing the collar on his neck. Elisa looked away, not wanting to watch another painful transformation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bronx shook himself and panted, but wagged his nubby gargoyle tail. Lexington patted his head. “We’re glad you’re back, too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We should go,” Goliath said decisively. “We can move through the branches and avoid detection.” He lifted Elisa, holding her with one arm while he climbed the tree trunk with another, her arms around his neck. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He allowed himself another glance at her, a slight smile on his face. “I’m glad you’re safe, Elisa,” he said gently.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And I’m glad you came to my rescue,” Elisa said, smiling back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brooklyn looked back in the direction of the crossroads. He would have to backtrack to make it there, and Broadway was right. She would be safe with Hudson. He climbed up the trunk after the others and began making his way towards the rendezvous point.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>- - -</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sevarius limped through the woods, away from the bright lights and the commotion. The captives had beaten him severely, if quickly, possibly breaking a few of his ribs. He mumbled angrily to himself as he went.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I went to all that trouble to fake my death, for </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Years</span>
  </em>
  <span> of careful experimentation, </span>
  <em>
    <span>ruined</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had walked East from Zebolim, then waited, expecting to hear massive explosions that would destroy and bury the Cities of the Four Horsemen, and any incriminating evidence. The explosions never came.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Harding probably </span>
  <em>
    <span>lost</span>
  </em>
  <span> the Doomsday Switch, the <em>idiot</em>. Or, maybe he was dead before he could press it.” The thought cheered him a little. The pain in his ribs swiftly drove that cheer away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A light appeared a few feet to his left. He stumbled back in surprise. “Who’s there?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The light came from an electric lantern, held by a familiar man.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait. I recognize you. Aren’t you Xanatos’ man? O-something?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man adjusted his glasses. “Owen Burnett. I’m glad to see you’ve escaped alive, Doctor Sevarius. And relatively unharmed.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Relatively unharmed</span>
  </em>
  <span>?’ Those </span>
  <em>
    <span>maniacs</span>
  </em>
  <span> beat me to a </span>
  <em>
    <span>pulp</span>
  </em>
  <span>! My ribs are </span>
  <em>
    <span>broken</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Survivable injuries,” Owen said calmly. “Those ‘maniacs,’ as you called them, were they provoked by another of your formulas?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sevarius sneered. “Yes, a formula that I won’t be able to replicate <em>ever again</em>. My notes are in my lab back at Zebolim, no doubt already snatched up by the Department of Big Trees or </span>
  <em>
    <span>whomever</span>
  </em>
  <span> raided us.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fortunately for you, Doctor Sevarius, that is </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> the case.” Owen walked closer to him, offering his arm for Sevarius to lean on. “Mr. Xanatos has taken the liberty of ordering a specially-trained team to retrieve your notes and materials from your ‘secret’ lab in Zebolim. They’ve also erased any evidence of your presence.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sevarius snubbed Owen’s proffered arm, continuing to limp on his own. “And why would <em>Xanatos</em> do something like that? I faked my death so I could come work on my experiments here <em>in peace</em>. He doesn't seem the sort of man who would <em>forgive</em> someone for abandoning their post.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Xanatos felt that you'd falsified your death, and he's instructed me to bring him 'the best geneticist on the planet.' He wants you to come back to work for him. Your faked death would still stand, of course. You’d be working for him at Gen-U-Tech, in secret.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sevarius thought about it. “Would I have full access to my previous and current notes? All the materials I need?” Owen nodded. “Then I’d be </span>
  <em>
    <span>delighted</span>
  </em>
  <span> to take him up on the offer. If we ever get out of this </span>
  <em>
    <span>blasted</span>
  </em>
  <span> forest.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Owen took a small remote out of his pocket and clicked a button on it. In the distance, a pair of headlights flashed. “I hope a Mercedes will be a comfortable enough escape vehicle?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>- - -</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I stood in the middle of the crossroads clearing, waiting, wishing Mephistopheles had given me instructions on how to use my new powers. Or that he had at least left one of the armchairs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Officers in black armor walked around the crossroads clearing, some heading off down paths, others handcuffing guests and pushing them into armored vehicles that they had parked in the clearing. A few had started to approach me, handcuffs out, but they were stopped by another officer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She’s good, she’s one of the undercovers that was sent in.” I recognized him as the officer who posed as our driver, Officer Travanti. I nodded to him, and he waved back, but otherwise left me alone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I didn’t feel any different. I didn’t feel more powerful, or more magical. Gargoyles, fairies, and magic were all real. </span>
  <span>And I was, supposedly, a fairy now. Or fae. Or ‘member of the Third Race.’ But I felt the same as I always had. I still felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>human</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I flexed my hand, staring at it, considering whether or not to test out my powers. If I even </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> any. Mephistopheles could have lied to me.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I had a strong feeling that he didn’t.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Melissa!” Hudson’s voice broke me out of my thoughts. He was still in his human form, the other officers nodding to him as he passed by. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hudson! It’s good to see you!” He came up and wrapped me up in a bear hug.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You too, lass. Have ye’ heard? They found Elisa!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They did?!” I breathed a sigh of relief. After being kidnapped and missing for eight days, with nothing but a puzzle and a hope that the Four Horsemen had taken her, Elisa had </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally</span>
  </em>
  <span> been found. Tonight had been <em>worth </em><em>it</em>. “Is she okay?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t heard details yet, but I’ve a feeling that she’s fine. And what of you? Are <em>you</em> alright?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” I nodded. I traced a line on my arm, where a deep cut from a glass shard should have been. “I mean, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but then…” I leaned in to whisper to him. “My ring turned me into a gargoyle for a little while, and it healed me! I had cuts, a broken ankle, blood loss. It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>bad</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looked shocked. “Really? It sounds like quite the story. You should tell it to me while we walk.” He looked back at the officers, continuing to whisper. “We’re to meet the others in a clearing a ways from here. Detective Bluestone’ll get us back to the city without making the others transform back into humans.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good idea. Just lead the way!” He held out his arm, and I took it gratefully. “And as for the story…" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We were able to walk down the path to Zebolim without too much notice. It took a little longer to find an opportunity to slip into the forest, waiting for patrols of officers to pass by. As we made our way to the meeting spot, I told Hudson everything. From first arriving at the Gehenna house, to falling down the chute to the basement, to knocking out Harding and dumping him in the quicklime pit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The President of the New York Public Library, ye’ say?” Hudson shook his head. “Cruelty for his own amusement. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to understand people like that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I nodded. We walked a little way in silence, the beam from a police-issued flashlight Hudson had taken from the base camp illuminating our way. My mind raced. One moment, I was trying to convince myself that I should tell Hudson about my deal with Mephistopheles, then the next I was telling myself not to.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hudson broke the silence. “Why did you and Brooklyn end up in a different place from Goliath and the others?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I hadn’t mentioned Mephistopheles in my story. If I mentioned him, if I mentioned that he was a fae, maybe I would have the confidence to tell Hudson about our deal. That I was now a minor fae, for whatever that was worth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do you know about someone called Mephistopheles? He’s mentioned in a story, sometimes it’s called </span>
  <em>
    <span>Faust</span>
  </em>
  <span>, sometimes </span>
  <em>
    <span>Doctor Faustus</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hudson shook his head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There was a man at the crossroads who went by Mephistopheles, who’s portrayed as a demon in that story. Instead of it being an actor, it was the <em>real </em>Mephistopheles, only it turns out that he's not a demon, he’s a member of the Third Race.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The Third Race? Truly?” I nodded, Hudson’s eyes going wide with surprise. “I wonder what one of them was doing here?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He never said, but he sent Brooklyn and I to Gehenna. He knew about a ‘Doomsday Switch’ that Harding had, and that it would make things worse if it was used. He knew someone had to go take care of it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well then, good of this ‘Mephistopheles’ to send you to stop him!” Hudson seemed satisfied.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Our conversation died away as we kept walking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Now</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I thought. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I should tell him now. If I don’t tell him now, I might never tell him. Or anyone. Why can't I tell him? What am I waiting for? Just tell him. Just TELL HIM!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong, lass?” Hudson’s voice interrupted my thoughts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why would anything be wrong?” I answered, too quickly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He chuckled. “I might not know ye’ very well, but I have a feeling that there’s <em>something</em> wrong. Something you aren’t telling me.” My breath hitched. “You don’t have to tell me if ye’d rather not, Melissa. But I think we’ve a ways to go until we find the others. There's time to talk.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I took a deep breath. “Hudson. I made a deal with Mephistopheles th-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He stopped in a dead halt. “You did </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span>?! Don’t you know to </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> make a deal with the Third Race?! Isn’t that in yer stories?!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I cringed at his interruption. He was upset, and afraid. It didn’t bode well for what Brooklyn’s reaction might be when I told him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>If I told him</span>
  </em>
  <span>, a whisper echoed in the back of my mind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Hudson</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” He turned to look at me, a deep frown on his still-human face. The flashlight’s beam shone in a bright circle at our feet. “I made a deal with Mephistopheles that turned me into a minor fae.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hudson stared at me, shock and fear warring in his eyes. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I nodded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You were turned into a minor <em>fae</em>?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes. I think.” Hudson groaned. “I haven’t tested my...my </span>
  <em>
    <span>powers</span>
  </em>
  <span> yet. And I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel</span>
  </em>
  <span> any different! I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> that it worked, or that Mephistopheles even </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually</span>
  </em>
  <span> changed me, but -”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Why</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Melissa?” He shook his head at me. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Why</span>
  </em>
  <span> did ye’ take a deal from a fae?!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>My face felt hot and tears stung my eyes. I felt like a child being scolded, like I had done something wrong. The worst part was, I might have. Maybe taking the deal had been </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Not just stupid, not just a mistake, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I did it so I could be with Brooklyn.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You two are </span>
  <em>
    <span>already</span>
  </em>
  <span> together!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But </span>
  <em>
    <span>for how long</span>
  </em>
  <span>?!” My throat went tight, my chin scrunching to try to hold back tears. “I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>human</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Hudson! I won’t live as long as a gargoyle! I’ll age </span>
  <em>
    <span>faster</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and I’ll die </span>
  <em>
    <span>sooner</span>
  </em>
  <span>, a-and I...</span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span>…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>My voice broke as I started to sob. Hot tears and snot dripped down my face, each breath a choking cough.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t w-want him t-to watch me <em>d-die</em>!” I sniffed and scrubbed at my face, but the sobs still came. “H-he’d watch me get-t </span>
  <em>
    <span>old</span>
  </em>
  <span> and he’d watch me </span>
  <em>
    <span>die</span>
  </em>
  <span>. A-and I...I’d h-have to wa-atch him </span>
  <em>
    <span>watch</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” I wrapped my arms around myself, squeezing tightly, willing myself to stop crying. “I-I’d rather br-reak up with Brookl-lyn, than g-go through tha-at.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hudson turned away, not looking at me. He scratched his hair, pushing up under his cap, sighing. I took a few more ragged breaths, shuddering with each one, wiping the tears and snot off my face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My m-makeup’s probaby ruined,” I said. Neither of us laughed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hudson turned back to me, looking me over. “I don’t doubt you two love each other, as much as two </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span> love each other after only a week. But I don’t know what this </span>
  <em>
    <span>deal</span>
  </em>
  <span> ye’ took with that fae will do, to you </span>
  <em>
    <span>or</span>
  </em>
  <span> Brooklyn.” He sighed. “But I </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> know ye’ did it with the best intentions. I just hope that will be enough.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Me, too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looked over his shoulder, then back to me. “You said, ye’ haven’t tested your powers?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I nodded. “I’m supposed to be able to shapeshift? And be immortal, apparently, but I don't think I want to test <em>that</em>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He stood back. “Well. Let’s see it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Try out your power. Ye’ said yourself, you’re not </span>
  <em>
    <span>sure</span>
  </em>
  <span> that the deal changed you. Let’s test it. If not, all the fuss’ll be for naught.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know how. He didn’t give me any instructions or anything.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hudson scratched his head, displacing his cap even more. “Maybe if ye’ try something small?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I held out my hand. My nails were bare and cut short, filed flat across the top. They were weak, and I had never been able to grow them out without them breaking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I took a deep breath, and stared at my nails. I stared at them, waiting, and waiting.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nothing’s happening.” I sighed. I felt relieved, and I felt disappointed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What did he say, when he gave you your powers?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He said that the only changes that will happen to me would be the ones that I will.” </span>
  <span>I frowned. “Maybe I’m starting too big?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I held out my pointer finger, looking at the nail. I squinted my eyes, trying to stare hard enough to change the color. Instead, I got a headache. I groaned as I pressed my hands over my eyes, trying to disperse the pressure that had built up behind them. "It's <em>not working </em>!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Try one more time, lass.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I sighed and looked down at my fingernail again. “Come </span>
  <em>
    <span>on</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” I hissed to myself. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Come on</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Trouble, my dear secretary?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I screamed, stumbling to the side. Mephistopheles stood next to me, laughing. I looked over at Hudson, and saw that he had been frozen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry, he won’t interrupt us. And teaching you how to shapeshift won’t take long.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why didn’t you just <em>teach me</em> back at the crossroads?!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It was fun to watch you try it on your own.” He mimicked me, holding his finger out and squinting at it, then laughed. He laughed harder when he saw that I was glaring at him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I cleared my throat “So? How do I use my powers?” He kept laughing. "Come on, Mephistopheles! <em>TELL ME</em> how to use my <em>POWERS!</em>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sighed, the wrinkles around his eyes softening. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fine</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Your next lesson’s going to be ‘how to have fun.’ But for now, try visualizing what you want to look like while counting down backwards.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I looked at him skeptically. “Really? Visualization and counting? </span>
  <em>
    <span>That’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> the secret?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“For a beginner? Yes. Go on, let me see.” He sat down in a freshly-summoned green leather armchair.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I sighed, then took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I imagined my fingernail being longer, pointed, and deep red. “5...4...3...2...1.” I opened my eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>My short, plain fingernail was now an almond-shaped, strong nail in shiny deep red.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mephistohpeles applauded politely. “Wonderful. Not quite as ambitious as I hoped, but a good baby step. A teeny, tiny, itty, bitty, teensy, weensy <em>baby</em> step.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I glared at him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, even a <em>small</em> start is still a </span>
  <em>
    <span>start</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Have fun practicing, my little secretary! And, good luck telling your paramour about our deal. Based on how <em>this</em><em> one</em> reacted” he gestured lazily towards Hudson, "you could be in for quite the fight." And he was gone again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to have to talk to him about that ‘my little’ and ‘my dear’ thing.” I grumbled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Talk to who?” Hudson was unfrozen, looking at me with concern.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, nothing! But look!” I held my fingernail up to him, smiling. “It worked!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hudson's own smile wavered on his face. “Good, lass. That's...very good.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, Hudson.” My smile dimmed. It had felt good to successfully transform, to </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> I had powers. I also knew that now there was no going back. And I suspected that Hudson was thinking the same thing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We should keep going.” He offered his arm out to me again, as if nothing about me was different, even though I knew he had mixed feelings about me turning into a fae. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I could have cried. Instead, I took his arm, and we continued moving through the forest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, and maybe wait to tell the others until we get back home.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I nodded. “We should be concentrating on getting Elisa back to the city and see if she needs medical care, and getting everyone else back to the clock tower without being seen.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course, there's all of that. But, ye’d probably also like to avoid sitting in a small metal box with four other gargoyles who may be upset when they hear your news. Could make for a very awkward trip.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I flinched, imagining shouting matches alternating with awkward silences filled with tension. “Thanks for the advice, Hudson.” I looked down at my nail, envisioning it as it usually was and counting backwards until it returned to normal. “Let’s go home.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We stepped through some trees and arrived in a clearing. </span>
  <span>Ahead of us were the dark outlines of buildings and two bright beams from a vehicle parked between two of them. We could hear the others’ voices in quiet conversation, waiting for us.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>OKAY, so the plan is ONE. MORE. CHAPTER!! SO CLOSE!!! (And a Thanks and Acknowledgements to follow!)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0054"><h2>54. Fifty Four</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>THE FINAL CHAPTER!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hudson and I walked a little ways down asphalt streets leading nowhere between shadowed buildings towards another armored vehicle.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, they’re here!” Lexington’s voice came from the roof of a building nearby, and he jumped down to us a second later.</p><p> </p><p>“Lexington!” Hudson patted him on the shoulder. “You’re in one piece! Where are the others?”</p><p> </p><p>“Just head for the lights!” Lexington crawled ahead of us. “Now that you’re here, we can finally head home! I’m exhausted.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re telling me.” I yawned. “I feel like I need to sleep for a week!”</p><p> </p><p>“Didn’t you turn into a gargoyle?” Lexington asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah! I think it was a one-time-only thing.”</p><p> </p><p>“Darn! It would’ve been really cool to see what you looked like as a gargoyle! Maybe we can get it to work again…”</p><p> </p><p>Hudson and I shared a look behind Lexington’s back. He shook his head slightly, reminding me that now was <em> not </em> the time to tell anyone else about my permanent admission into the Third Race.</p><p> </p><p>Lexington led us to the armored van where the others were gathered. A light from the back of the armored vehicle showed dim outlines of the others. Several of the outlines had wings and tails, but two didn’t. Two smaller, slimmer shapes.</p><p> </p><p>“Elisa?” I ran up to her, relief flooding through me. “You’re okay!” Happy tears filled my eyes. I started to reach my arms out, then stopped, unsure if hugging her would hurt her. We’d also only met <em> once </em> before she’d been kidnapped. What if she didn’t like hugs in general?</p><p> </p><p>She pulled me in for a one-armed hug. “Thanks for helping rescue me, Melissa. Maybe once I heal up we can get coffee and <em> actually </em> get to know each other.”</p><p> </p><p>I laughed, gently hugging her back. “Sounds like a plan.” I released her and turned to the human woman sitting on the bumper of the van. “And we’ve rescued someone else! I’m Melissa, who are…”</p><p> </p><p>I looked at the woman, my hand in midair. I recognized her. Her hair was longer, and she was thinner. She looked older, a lot older than just three years would make her.</p><p> </p><p>“...Fatimah?!”</p><p> </p><p>She looked at me, surprised, fingers massaging her temples. “Do we know each other?”</p><p> </p><p>“No.” I smiled. “But I know Clara. And she’s going to be so <em> damn </em> happy to see you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Clara?!” Fatimah started sobbing. “I’ve missed her so much! I, I…” She broke down, and I gently patted her shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>“You’ll see each other soon, I promise.” She buried her face in her hands.</p><p> </p><p>Elisa tapped my arm. “Let’s give her a minute to herself.” I nodded and we moved away towards the gargoyles.</p><p> </p><p>I looked around, only seeing four gargoyles and Hudson. “Wait, where’s Brookly-”</p><p> </p><p>“Gotcha!” Brooklyn came up behind me, arms around my waist and spinning me.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Don’t spin me </em>!” I started feeling nauseous, memories of the ballroom binding ritual bringing back some motion sickness.</p><p> </p><p>He stopped, gently tossing me into the air so he could turn me, forearms against the back of my thighs, still holding me up. “If you say so, Blue.”</p><p> </p><p>I looked down at him, putting my hands on his shoulders and leaning my forehead against his. “Hi.”</p><p> </p><p>I felt him put a hand on the back of my neck, talons gently scratching at my hair, and folded his wings around me. “Hi.”</p><p> </p><p>“Um,” I heard Elisa whisper. “What’s going on there?”</p><p> </p><p>“A lot has happened in the past few days,” Goliath whispered back.</p><p> </p><p>“That seems like an understatement.”</p><p> </p><p>“We’ll fill you in on the way home,” Broadway added in a hushed voice.</p><p> </p><p>“Speaking of!” Matt came around the side of the van, knocking the side of his fist against it. “Let’s load up and go home!” We piled into the van.</p><p> </p><p>Fatimah sat up front with Matt, saying she would welcome some time alone. She seemed to take the gargoyles’ existence in stride. “I saw some weird stuff while I was in Zebolim,” she said with a tired smile. “And these guys saved me. Plus, I learned that humans are more monstrous than anyone with tails or wings.”</p><p> </p><p>We swapped information with Elisa on the two-hour car ride back to the city. We told her about the break-in at my apartment, the plans with Xanatos, and the gargoyles’ human transformations. She told us about her captivity, how she and the other captives had to pretend to live in the fake city we had met in, the vials of goop she had to drink, and the night Doctor Sevarius experimented on her.</p><p> </p><p>“Sevarius? You figured out who Doctor Disease was?” I asked Elisa, but she shook her head.</p><p> </p><p>“Goliath figured it out when they were rescuing me. Every time I saw him, he was in this disgusting mask. It had yellow and red eyes, and looked like burned skin.” She shuddered.</p><p> </p><p>“Wait, yellow and red eyes? Did he also have boils? No nose or lips?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes! Did you see him?”</p><p> </p><p>I shook my head. “No, but I had a couple of weird dreams...and I think I <em> saw </em> that mask in them… Weird...” Hudson looked at me suspiciously, but I shrugged my shoulders slightly. I had no idea why the Doctor Disease mask had appeared in my dreams, especially when I had them before my change.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, with any luck, all the Horsemen will have been arrested and they’ll <em> all </em> pay for their crimes.” Elisa’s eyes became hard, a scowl on her face. “But the first order of business is food, a bath, and sleep, in <em> any </em> order.”</p><p> </p><p>We made it back to the city half an hour before dawn, Matt stopping to drop the gargoyles off at the Civic Center first. He took Elisa, Fatimah, and I to the safehouse apartment. Elisa and Fatimah started to object, but Matt refused.</p><p> </p><p>“You said ‘food, a bath, and sleep,’ and the station can wait to process you guys until you’ve had some rest. Hopefully there’s enough couches for you all to get some rest. I’ll drop off some fresh clothes for you two, and bring some food by. Anything you want in particular?”</p><p> </p><p>“Pizza!” “Burritos!” Elisa and Fatimah both shouted, then laughed.</p><p> </p><p>“They only fed us 'healthy' food,” Fatimah explained. “I’ve been dying for something, <em> anything </em> , unhealthy. For <em> three YEARS </em>!”</p><p> </p><p>Matt nodded with a laugh, calling to us as we got out of the car. “I’ll get a variety, a feast of unhealthy junk food!”</p><p> </p><p>In the apartment, I showed Elisa and Fatimah the gray bedroom and ensuite. “Someone should take the bed, both of you if you don’t mind sharing! I’ll take the couch out in the main room.” They nodded, and I left them to get showered and sleep after changing out of my slightly ruined cocktail dress.</p><p> </p><p>A few hours later, Matt came back with clothes for Elisa and Fatimah, and a feast of junk for all three of us.</p><p> </p><p>“You know, I’m starting to feel more like an errand boy than a detective,” he said, setting down bags of food on the counter in the kitchen.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, if you ever lose your job at the NYPD, you’ve already got a leg-up on your next career.” He laughed and shook his head. “Really, thank you, Matt. I know you’re going out of your way.”</p><p> </p><p>“Nothing I wouldn’t do for my friends. Even new ones.” He looked at his watch. “I’ll come back in a few hours to get all of you. I tried to push it off as long as I could, but Chief Chavez <em> really </em> wants you guys to come into the station.”</p><p> </p><p>“Is Clara going to be there? Does she know that Fatimah’s back?”</p><p> </p><p>Matt looked away. “I was going to wait to call her until Fatimah was done giving her statement.”</p><p> </p><p>“So she wouldn’t have to wait…” I shook my head. “Clara’s the type of person who would want to know as soon as possible, even if she has to wait.”</p><p> </p><p>He looked back at me and nodded. “I’ll make the call when I’m back at the station. Anything you want me to pass on?”</p><p> </p><p>“Just tell her I say hello,” I said with a smile.</p><p> </p><p>Matt told me he’d come back for us at four o’clock and left. I put the food away, to heat it up after I woke up Elisa and Fatimah. I wrapped myself in my quilt and lay down on the couch, but I didn’t sleep.</p><p> </p><p>I didn’t <em> need </em> to sleep. I wasn’t tired. And the food had smelled delicious, but I wasn’t hungry. I <em> hadn’t </em> been hungry. Maybe it was stress, or overexhaustion from last night.</p><p> </p><p>Or maybe this is what it meant to be a fae.</p><p> </p><p>I stared at my hand and practiced shapeshifting. I changed the color and length of my nails, then the color of my skin on my hand. Paler, tanner, the brick red of Brooklyn’s coloring, even  the midnight blue of my gargoyle form. After two hours, I was able to shift my hand from my normal human form to the four-fingered, taloned hand of my gargoyle form.</p><p> </p><p>Even though it took me a few tries, I finally woke up Elisa and Fatimah, promising that hot food would be waiting for them and handing over the clothes Matt had brought. They dressed and we ate, Fatimah excitedly listing off all the things she would do, now that she was free.</p><p> </p><p>“First, I’m going to kiss my wife <em> so hard </em> !” Her eyes shone, her smile wide. “Really, first was food, sleep, and shower, but I already did that, so my <em> official </em> first is kissing my wife. And I’m not going to care who’s watching, so fair warning, both of you!”</p><p> </p><p>I laughed. “Clara’s wonderful, and I know she’s missed you so, <em> so </em> much. It’ll be nice to see you two reunite.”</p><p> </p><p>“Speaking of reuniting,” Elisa said, picking up a slice of pepperoni and mushroom pizza. “What was that with Brooklyn last night?”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Yes </em> , I was going to ask about that too!” Fatimah took a gulp of soda. “I might be a woman who's married to another wonderful, smart, amazing, beautiful woman, but it seems like <em> you’re </em> in love with someone a little <em>taboo</em>, too. ”</p><p> </p><p>I swallowed a mouthful of cheeseburger and looked at Fatimah. “You know what? Yes, I <em> am </em> . I’m in love with a cocky, sarcastic, brave, <em> kind </em> gargoyle. It was definitely taboo when the others first found out.”</p><p> </p><p>Elisa set the piece of pizza down on her plate without taking a bite. “It ‘was,’ but…not anymore?”</p><p> </p><p>“Hudson told me no one had ever mixed in the past, at least not with their clan. But the one who really had a problem with it was Goliath.”</p><p> </p><p>Fatimah looked up, a noodle of vegetable lo mein hanging out of her mouth. “Elisa, isn’t <em> Goliath </em> the name of your picture? The one you said you cared about <em> a lot </em>?” Elisa blushed, taking a sip of soda instead of responding.</p><p> </p><p>I carefully stared at my plate, dipping a french fry in ketchup. “Goliath was so mad that he and Brooklyn actually got in a fistfight.”</p><p> </p><p>Elisa almost choked on her soda. “What?!”</p><p> </p><p>“Who won?” Elisa glared at Fatimah, who shrugged. “It’s a legitimate question.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’d say it was a draw. Goliath had Brooklyn pinned, but Brooklyn helped him realize that he was more upset about you, Elisa.” I looked over at her. “He blamed himself when you were kidnapped. He felt like he should have protected you.”</p><p> </p><p>Fatimah set her glass down hard. “<em> Wait </em> ! Was <em> Goliath </em> one of the gargoyles, from last night?”</p><p> </p><p>I looked at Elisa, raising my eyebrows and taking a huge bite of my cheeseburger.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.” She picked at the crust on her pizza, then looked over at Fatimah. “He’s the light purple one.”</p><p> </p><p>“The really tall one? Mr. Broad Shoulders?” Elisa nodded, and Fatimah whistled. “And are you going to <em> tell him </em>?!”</p><p> </p><p>Elisa looked between Fatimah and I, then quickly took a huge bite of her now cooled pizza. She chewed and mumbled, pointing to her mouth. <em> Can’t answer, mouth’s full! </em></p><p> </p><p>Fatimah shook her head and tsked. “Oh <em> Elisa </em> . I won’t pressure you... <em> much </em>...but you should tell him how you feel! You regretted not telling him when you were in Zebolim.” She raised an eyebrow and grabbed her own slice of pizza, picking the pepperoni off.</p><p> </p><p>I wiped my hands on a paper napkin. “I won’t pressure you either, Elisa. But you <em> could </em>. And, in my opinion, I think it’d go well.”</p><p> </p><p>Elisa nodded, swallowing her pizza and sipping her soda, staying quiet.</p><p> </p><p>Fatimah laughed and shook her head. “I’m sure it’ll happen <em> one day </em> . And I <em> better </em> get an invitation to the ceremony! <em> Oh! </em> ” A look of wonder crossed her face. “What would a <em> gargoyle </em> wedding look like? <em>How would they do the tuxedoes</em>?!”</p><p> </p><p>I tried to hold back a laugh, some soda from the sip I just took dribbling out of my lips. Fatimah began laughing at me, which made me laugh <em> more </em>. I was able to swallow the soda before I spit it over the table.</p><p> </p><p>We were still laughing when Matt walked in. Elisa looked relieved to see him, and I suspected that part of that was because we didn’t have any more time to ask her about Goliath.</p><p> </p><p>“Glad to see everyone’s enjoying the junk feast!” He reached out and grabbed a slice of pizza. “You guys ready to head out in five?”</p><p> </p><p>I got up to change my soda-stained shirt, but stopped before I left the kitchen. “Should I pack up? Or will I get to come back here later?”</p><p> </p><p>“You can stay here as long as you want,” Matt said, surprising me. “You can’t <em> live </em> here or anything, but you’ve got plenty of time.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh. Good. I think I’d still like to look for a new apartment. Even if you guys got Harding…” I looked at Matt, who, thankfully, nodded.</p><p> </p><p>"We got Harding, but no one's found Sevarius yet. And Xanatos has conveniently disappeared as well." Matt shot Elisa an apologetic look. "I'm sure we'll find both of them. But Harding and two of the other Horsemen are in custody."</p><p> </p><p>“Even if Harding’s behind bars, I don’t think I’d be comfortable moving back into that apartment. But that can wait for tomorrow! I'll just change my shirt, then I'm ready to head to the precinct.” Matt nodded again, then turned back to Fatimah and Elisa, helping them pack up what was left of the feast.</p><p> </p><p>We left the apartment and arrived at the 23rd Precinct. We walked in to find the entire bullpen applauding, cheering, and whistling. They may have only found out that Elisa was missing yesterday, but they were ecstatic to see her back.</p><p> </p><p>Chief Chavez was waiting for us, along with Officer Traviati. “Good to have you back in one piece, Detective Maza.” She held a hand out to Elisa.</p><p> </p><p>Elisa shook her hand firmly. “Good to <em> be </em> back, Chief. Although, ‘one piece’ might be a little enthusiastic.” She rubbed at her shoulder. It seemed better after she had slept a little, but it was obviously still difficult for her to move it.</p><p> </p><p>“Are each of you ready to have your statements taken?” She looked between all three of us, and we nodded.</p><p> </p><p>I was taken to an interrogation room by Officer Traviati, Fatimah being taken to the one next door to mine. Another officer that I hadn’t met came in to take my statement, asking me to recount the night forwards and backwards. On the way to the station, we had discussed whether to mention the Gargoyles in our statements, pointing out that it would be hard to tell the story without mentioning them <em> and </em> without perjuring ourselves. Matt explained that he had told Chief Chavez that there were some of Elisa’s ‘contacts’ involved, and he told her that he had added some of his own ‘contacts,’ which allowed us talk about the gargoyles by ‘code names’ as long as we remembered they were human <em> the entire time </em>.</p><p> </p><p>Fatimah and I were both finished with our statements around the same time, and made our way back to the entrance of the precinct.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> FATIMAH!! </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Clara ran to her so quickly that her hug knocked the wind out of Fatimah. In the middle of the doorway into the 23rd Precinct, Fatimah took Clara’s face in her hands and kissed her over and over again, tears streaming down both their faces. They said “I love you, I missed you” over and over again, almost like a chant, or a prayer.</p><p> </p><p>I felt an arm around my shoulder and looked up to see Jack, who was weeping.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m g-glad to be h-here f-for this-s!” Jack sobbed, blowing his nose loudly into a neon green bandana. “Worth r-ruining my n-new Emerg-gency Punk Ban-ndana!”</p><p> </p><p>I put my arm around Jack’s waist and hugged him close. “Me too, Jack. And I didn’t know you were such a <em> softie </em>!”</p><p> </p><p>He blew his nose into his bandana again. “True love is <em> truly </em> punk, okay?!”</p><p> </p><p>I laughed and patted his side. “You’re the expert, Jack.”</p><p> </p><p>“Are you coming back to work?” He sniffed.</p><p> </p><p>“If Nicole will give me my job back, then yes. I can’t imagine working anywhere else!”</p><p> </p><p>Clara and Fatimah’s tears stopped, but they kept holding on tightly to each other. I suspected it was going to be a long time before they let go. I quietly told Jack that I would see them sometime tomorrow.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you sneaking off to see that undercover officer? Brock?”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Brooklyn </em>, and yes.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sneaking off from a police station to meet a clandestine lover. You’re getting wilder every day, Melissa. I like it!” He looked back at Clara and Fatimah. “Maybe you can bring him on a little triple date one night? Then I can introduce all four of you to my roommate!”</p><p> </p><p>“Roommate? I didn’t know you had a roommate! You’d bring a <em> roommate </em> on a triple <em> date </em>?”</p><p> </p><p>Jack smiled at me, patting my shoulder. “‘Roommate’ is the easiest term for most people to comprehend when it comes to us. I mean, I’m <em> used </em> to people not ‘getting’ us.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re both too punk to define?” I asked with a smirk.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Exactly </em> . My roommate and I are as ‘together’ as we want to be. But most people don’t get that being ‘together’ for us doesn’t really mean being <em> to-ge-ther </em>.” He sighed and rolled his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“So who <em> is </em> this mysterious roommate?”</p><p> </p><p>Jack winked. “Well, I’ll give you a little hint: their name’s Dev.”</p><p> </p><p>“Dev? The <em> stylist </em>?”</p><p> </p><p>“Wait, you’ve already met Dev?!”</p><p> </p><p>“Kind of, but really it was Brooklyn who met them. Dev prepped Brooklyn for last night’s undercover assignment.”</p><p> </p><p>Jack shook his head in amazement. “Dev’s not one to talk about work, but I am <em> definitely </em> asking them about <em> that </em>!”</p><p> </p><p>“Tell them I say hello! <em> And </em> that Brooklyn’s hair looked perfect the whole time.”</p><p> </p><p>Jack beamed. “They’ll love that. Dev’s a little hard for most people to read, but they’re <em> damn </em> proud of their work. Now <em> go </em> and <em> have fun </em>!” He winked again, then pushed me lightly towards the hallway.</p><p> </p><p>It was a few hours after sundown. I slipped upstairs, eventually emerging in the main room of the clock tower to the sounds of a party. Elisa and Matt were already there, talking with the others, another junk food feast spread over the table and crates, a boombox playing rock music in the corner. I even spied the dark figure of Talon, talking with Elisa but standing away from her.</p><p> </p><p>“You finally made it!” Brooklyn turned from one of the nearby crates and reached his hand out to me, hauling me the rest of the way up the ladder-stairs into a huge, wing-enveloping embrace.</p><p> </p><p>I wrapped my arms around his waist and pressed a kiss to the end of his beak. “Of course! I wouldn’t miss a ‘We Survived’ party for the world!”</p><p> </p><p>All of us ate and laughed and talked late into the night, the joy of having found Elisa <em> and </em> taken down the Four Horsemen making us all giddy.</p><p> </p><p>At one point, Hudson came up to me, making sure Brooklyn was out of earshot.</p><p> </p><p>“So, lass, when are ye’ going to tell him?”</p><p> </p><p>I sighed, my mood falling. “Later tonight. Matt said I could still stay at the safehouse apartment for a while, and I think it’d be better for both of us if I told him one-on-one.”</p><p> </p><p>Hudson nodded. “Better sooner than later, Melissa.”</p><p> </p><p>He walked away, and I gripped the cup of soda in my hand tightly, looking at Brooklyn across the room. He was telling Matt about the Gehenna house, reenacting the moment when he tossed the jar with the head into the crowd on the lower level. My heart twisted, but I smiled when he looked over at me. I hoped, I <em> prayed </em> , that my deal with Mephistopheles hadn’t ruined this. That it hadn’t ruined <em> us </em>.</p><p> </p><p>A little after midnight, I waved Brooklyn towards the glass door, out onto the balcony. He followed, a large smile on his face.</p><p> </p><p>We were alone on the balcony. The breeze was gentle, but cold, autumn almost ready to change over to winter. He pulled me close and pressed his forehead to mine, wings wrapping around me for warmth as much as for affection. “Are you okay? Tired?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m fine,” I said with a smile. I wasn’t fine. I was <em> terrified </em> . My heart raced and my hands shook, sweating despite the chill. <em> What if this doesn’t go well? </em>I tried to push the thought away. “Think you and I could go back to the apartment?”</p><p> </p><p>He started purring, a smirk growing on his face. “The apartment, huh?”</p><p> </p><p>I took a breath. “It’s because I need to tell you something.”</p><p> </p><p>He stopped purring, drawing back to look at me. “Tell me what? Is everything okay?”</p><p> </p><p>I pressed my lips together. It was tempting to just go ahead and tell him, here on the balcony, just <em> get it over with </em> , but we could still hear the sounds of the party inside. Which means they would have been able to hear us, if the conversation <em>didn’t </em> go well. “I <em> hope </em> everything’s okay, but I honestly don’t know how you’ll react to what I’ve got to tell you.”</p><p> </p><p>He let go of me, stepping back. The chill of the wind was sharp, and the growing suspicion on Brooklyn’s face made it feel even sharper. “Can't you just tell me here?”</p><p> </p><p>I felt my throat grow tight. “I want to tell you privately, and the balcony's not going to cut it. Will you...will you <em> trust me </em> that this will be better in private?”</p><p> </p><p>A look of fear crossed his face. “Are you<em> ending </em> things between us?!”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> No! </em> No, I’m not. I don’t want to end <em> anything </em> ! But I need to tell you something important, and I think...after I tell you, <em> you </em> might want to end things with <em> me </em> . Something’s changed. No,” I shook my head, frustrated. <em> Why can’t we just do this in the apartment?! </em> “ <em> I’ve </em> changed. And you might not like how I’ve changed.”</p><p> </p><p>“When did this ‘change’ happen?”</p><p> </p><p>“Last night, when you left to go find Goliath and I was in the crossroads. Brooklyn, <em> please </em> .” I begged him, arms wrapped around myself and shivering. “Can we <em> please </em> go to the apartment for this?”</p><p> </p><p>He nodded and looked through the glass door. “Do I need to tell them we’re leaving?”</p><p> </p><p>I looked through the door as well. I saw that Hudson was watching us. He nodded to me. “Looks like Hudson will be able to tell them for us, if he needs to.”</p><p> </p><p>“Now that <em> really </em> doesn’t sound good.” Brooklyn frowned, but held his arms out to me. “Shall we?”</p><p> </p><p>I nodded and stepped into his arms, ready for the short glide to the safehouse.</p><p> </p><p>- - -</p><p> </p><p>I almost wished that the balcony door had been locked. Anything to call off the conversation would have been welcome.</p><p> </p><p>But it was unlocked, and we headed into the apartment. I walked over to the main room’s gas fireplace and turned a switch, a warm fire springing up instantly. Soft light from the wall sconces and the firelight cast cozy shadows, making the room feel smaller than it was.</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe you should take a seat,” I said uncertainly.</p><p> </p><p>Brooklyn shook his head, standing next to the couch instead. “Melissa, you're <em>really </em> starting to freak me out! You said you’re not ending things, but you’re acting really sketchy. What’s wrong ? Just tell me what’s wrong, I can take it!”</p><p> </p><p>I breathed faster, flashing back to Hudson’s words last night.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Don’t you know to never make a deal with the Third Race?! Isn’t that in yer stories?!” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Why did ye’ take a deal from a fae?! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Better sooner than later, Melissa. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“I think it’s better if I <em> show </em> you.” I held my hand up. I made sure he saw my hand normally before shifting the skin to dark blue, my fingernails into talons, and my pinky merging with my ring finger.</p><p> </p><p>Brooklyn stepped back. “What’s going on? What was <em> that </em>?”</p><p> </p><p>I transformed my hand back. “I changed last night.”</p><p> </p><p>He nodded. “Into a gargoyle. I saw you. Is this some kind of aftereffect? From the ring? Can you...can you turn into a gargoyle when you want?”</p><p> </p><p>I laughed weakly. “Kind of.” I closed my eyes and willed myself to shift into my gargoyle form. I didn’t know if Brooklyn noticed how my clothes shifted as well, my jeans growing shorter to fall at my gargoyle knees, a space for my tail opening up, and two slits in the back of my blouse letting out my wings. My shoes disappeared, as if they had been absorbed into my feet.</p><p> </p><p>“I look like a gargoyle, right? Like I did last night?” I could feel the tears forming in my eyes, my breath hitching.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, but...why are you upset? Does it hurt when you do it?" I shook my head. I hadn't tried a whole-body transformation yet, but it was painless. And it was <em>easy</em>, like slipping into a familiar shirt. "Then I don’t understand. I mean, a human being able to shift into a gargoyle's pretty fucking <em>awesome!</em>”</p><p> </p><p>“What if I’m not a human anymore. Or a gargoyle.”</p><p> </p><p>He smiled, lifting his arms to either side in a shrug. “Maybe you’re getting the best of both? I'm still not getting why you're upset...”</p><p> </p><p>"No, I mean, what if I'm neither human <em>nor</em> gargoyle?" He still looked confused, and I felt even more frustrated. “I...I’m not explaining this right. I'll try showing you again.” I took one last breath, closed my eyes, and imagined a form that wasn't human or gargoyle.</p><p> </p><p>My hair grew long and turned silver, small blossoms of jasmine sprouted in the silver locks, and a thin ring of woven jasmine circled my head like a crown. My skin turned dark green like the jasmine leaves, my eyes becoming the same silver as my hair. I shrank myself to about five feet, but I stretched my proportions so my neck, legs, arms, and fingers were long, willowy, and clearly inhuman and ungargoyle. My ears grew long and smooth, mimicking the shape of the jasmine leaves. My clothes changed, becoming a long, gauzy dress of silvery lace, reaching just to my ankles, the sleeves tight to my overly slim arms, then billowing out wide from the elbow, stopping a little below my wrists. A tall lace collar followed up my long neck, stopping below my chin, a long rectangle down the center of my dress baring my skin from my throat to below my sternum. The edges of the dress lay flat against my body, moving with me as if the dress was fused to my skin. The back of my dress was open, three pairs of shimmering, translucent dragonfly wings sprouting from my back. My hair, my sleeves, and the edges of my dress all gently floated in the air, as if I was underwater.</p><p> </p><p>I opened my eyes, having to look up at Brooklyn from my new height. "<em>This</em> is what I meant."</p><p> </p><p>He stared at me.</p><p> </p><p>I shifted on my thin, long toes. “Brooklyn? Please say something.”</p><p> </p><p>He stared.</p><p> </p><p>“Please?”</p><p> </p><p>He lunged for me.</p><p> </p><p>His eyes were glowing white, and he was snarling, his talons outstretched, raking at me.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> WHAT DID YOU DO WITH HER?! </em>” He shouted at me, a deep growl underneath.</p><p> </p><p>With a shout, I fluttered my wings, shooting upwards and back, out of his reach. “Brooklyn, it’s <em> ME </em>!”</p><p> </p><p>He crouched down, then sprung at me. I spun out of his way, and he smashed into an apartment wall, latching onto it to stay suspended off the floor. “<em> You CAN’T be Melissa! TELL ME WHAT YOU DID WITH HER! </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“I told you, it’s <em> ME </em> ! I <em>AM</em>Melissa!” I darted out of his way again as he pushed off the wall and crashed into the other, landing on the ground and ready to spring up again.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> PROVE IT! </em>” He yelled at me, fangs and talons bared, tail twitching back and forth.</p><p> </p><p>“You were a bad kisser, so I made you spaghetti!”</p><p> </p><p>To anyone else, that statement would be nonsense, but I <em> knew </em> it would get his attention.</p><p> </p><p>Brooklyn’s eyes widened and lost their white glow, now looking bewildered. “Melissa? What <em> happened </em> to you?!”</p><p> </p><p>“I made a deal with Mephistopheles.” I lowered myself back to the floor and closed my eyes, turning back into myself. </p><p> </p><p>“Mephistopheles? The guy from the crossroads?” He shook his head. “How would making a deal with <em> him </em> make...whatever happened to you <em> happen </em>?”</p><p> </p><p>I sighed. “Mephistopheles isn’t an actor. Or a demon. He’s a fae, a member of the Third Race.”</p><p> </p><p>Confusion changed to disbelief. “Melissa...you <em> didn’t </em>…”</p><p> </p><p>I nodded. “Yes, I did. I made a deal with a fae.” Brooklyn groaned. “He made me a minor fae, all I can do is shapeshift and I’m also supposed to be immortal, and I’m going to be his secretary, but I made sure that I could refuse to do things so I think it’s going to be -”</p><p> </p><p>“You think it’s going to be okay.” The flat tone of his voice stopped my heart dead. “Melissa, <em> why- </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“Why did I make a deal with a fae. I get the feeling that's a question I'm going to hear a lot.” I looked away from him, walking back to the fireplace to stand near the warmth.</p><p> </p><p>He slowly walked up to the fireplace, keeping on the opposite side of me. “Why’d you do it, Melissa?”</p><p> </p><p>I stared at the fire. “We haven’t known each other very long, but I know that I love you. I hadn’t thought much past that until Mephistopheles brought up the fact that we’re going to age differently. And if everything went <em> perfectly </em> , if we stayed together for as long as we could, then that means that I’d get older than you <em> faster </em> , and I would die <em> much earlier </em> than you. And, honestly, that wouldn’t bother me so much. But…” </p><p> </p><p>I glanced at him, realizing he was watching me closely, and looked back down at the fire. “But it would bother <em> you </em> . And I didn’t want to watch <em> you </em> watching <em> me </em> die. So Mephistopheles offered me a deal, so I could be with you for as long as <em> you </em> lived. The tradeoff is that I’ll work as his secretary. And I don’t really know what <em>that</em> means, but I took the deal.”</p><p> </p><p>He looked down at the fire, frowning. The flames flickered, moving shadows around the silent room, the city lights hidden by the thick curtains over the windows. I almost wished there was a clock in the room. Even a monotonous tick would have been a welcome break from silence. Tears came to my eyes and I let them fall, sniffling, chin and mouth scrunching to keep everything else contained. </p><p> </p><p>The silence started to <em> hurt </em>. The longer he didn’t say anything, the more my heart cracked and crumbled.</p><p> </p><p>I had told Hudson the truth, that I would have rather broken things off with Brooklyn than put him through watching me age faster than him. But there was no way of knowing whether or not Brooklyn agreed. Especially when he wasn’t saying anything.</p><p> </p><p>He turned away from the fireplace, from <em> me </em>.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> What had I done? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“So.” My eyes popped up, staring at his back at the sound of his voice. His head was bowed low, his wings folded around his slumped shoulders. “You’d rather watch <em> me </em> die before you?”</p><p> </p><p>“What?”</p><p> </p><p>“You said you’re immortal now. So instead, you’ll watch <em> me </em> get old and die.” He turned his head, stopping short of looking at me. “How is <em> that </em> fair, Melissa?”</p><p> </p><p>“Because we’ll get <em> more time together </em> !” He turned away again, shaking his head. “ <em> Brooklyn </em> , I <em> am </em> going to age as a fae, in a way! I’m going to age as a human <em> and </em> as a gargoyle, so I can live a natural-length life with <em> everyone </em> ! With <em> you </em> , with my <em> friends </em> , with my <em> family </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then you’ll go on after everyone. <em>Alone </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>I wiped at my eyes. “Yes. Well, as Mephistopheles' secretary.”</p><p> </p><p>This time he did turn around, something short of a sneer on his face. “And what if this didn’t end up being ‘okay’ with me? If I ended things with you, tonight? Would it have been worth it <em> then </em>?”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Yes</em>.” I was surprised by the confidence in my voice, but as I answered, I realized it was true . “Even if you tell me things are over, taking the deal was worth making a longer life with you <em> possible </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>He was quiet again. A minute passed, then another, and another. I walked up closer to him, hand reaching out but not touching him. “Brooklyn?”</p><p> </p><p>He sighed, finally turning around to face me. He looked up at me with a small half-smile. “I hope I don’t have to fight Goliath again when he finds out a gargoyle and a <em> fae </em> are together.”</p><p> </p><p><em>Together</em>.</p><p> </p><p>I buried my face in my hands and cried, so relieved that we were staying together, that he wasn't calling things off, that the risk had been worth it <em>and</em> had actually paid off. I felt Brooklyn wrap his arms and wings around me as I cried, resting his head on mine.</p><p> </p><p>“Can I tell you something?” He asked me. I nodded my head, sniffling loudly. “You’ve got this form, your gargoyle form, and a fae form, right? And you'll probably get more forms as you go?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” I rubbed some of my tears away. “Why?”</p><p> </p><p>“I need you to know something.” He drew back to look at me.</p><p> </p><p>“What?”</p><p> </p><p>“I prefer you as a human, Blue.”</p><p> </p><p>I laughed, face still red, coughing between laughs. He held me close again.</p><p> </p><p>“And <em>I</em> still prefer <em>you</em> as a gargoyle.” I leaned into him, resting my head on his shoulder, still sniffling. “If you’re going to call me ‘Blue,’ does that mean I can call you ‘Red?’”</p><p> </p><p>“Mmhmm.” I felt the vibration of his hum in his chest and sighed, relaxing.</p><p> </p><p>“Should we go back to the party?”</p><p> </p><p>“We could, or…” He started purring, low and deep in his chest. He moved one hand towards my lower back, the other one digging into my hair. He slid his tongue lightly up the side of my neck, my heart starting to pound. “...we could stay in.”</p><p> </p><p>I wove my fingers into the hair at the base of his neck, careful not to mess up the braids. “I think they’re fine without us.”</p><p> </p><p>He smiled at me. “Exactly what I was thinking.”</p><p> </p><p>I looked up at him. Nine nights ago, terrified on a balcony high above the city streets, I had learned that gargoyles were real. It felt like a lifetime had passed since then, from meeting Elisa, to the first time Brooklyn and I tried to kiss, to walking through the Gate to Hell to bring down the Four Horsemen. I had no idea what else was in my future, but I knew that it could only get more interesting from here.</p><p> </p><p>We held each other tightly, leaning in for one of many quasi-kisses to come.</p><p> </p><p>~The End~</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks and Acknowledgements to follow!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0055"><h2>55. Thanks, Acknowledgements and EPILOGUE NOTES</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Thanks, Acknowledgements, and Epilogue Notes (and links to songs and videos mentioned in the story!)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u"> <strong> <em>THANKS AND ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS</em> </strong> </span>
</p><p>HO-</p><p> </p><p>-LY</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> SHIT </em>
</p><p> </p><p>GUYS! IT’S DONE! I FINISHED IT!</p><p> </p><p>This has been a W I L D ride! What I thought was going to be a <em> SHORT </em> story as my first fanfic grew entirely on its own and almost out of my control. I have been <em> obsessed </em> with finishing it. A bit of it was a slog to write through, but everyone’s kind encouragement so far has been really inspiring, helping me push myself to finish this!</p><p> </p><p>Thank you so much to everyone who’s read up to this point, especially the following readers who left comments (in chronological order, as of 18 May 2020):</p><p>Kasubee</p><p>Marshall1999</p><p>VirgoDragon</p><p>TheReadStreak33 (who also helped with the ending of chapter 26!)</p><p>BlueKittyCat13</p><p>WolvesRKawaii</p><p>dondena</p><p>Bigou</p><p>galaxygaze</p><p>Littlebunnyq</p><p> </p><p>You guys have been SO encouraging, I’ve sincerely looked forward to seeing your comments in my inbox! </p><p> </p><p>As for the future, I’m not sure if I’ll write more fanfics, either in the Gargoyles world or in others. I need a break from all the writing to get my energy/creativity back, and I’m hoping more stories just kind of <em> appear </em> to me, like this one did. Trust me, I wish I could guarantee it! But I don’t want to make a promise that I’m not 100% sure I can deliver on.</p><p> </p><p>Still, this has been an honor and a pleasure, and I’m SO THANKFUL to all of you for helping make this an amazing experience! I’ll definitely still check my inbox for future comments, and I hope you’ll keep an eye out for any future works that might make their way out of my brain.</p><p> </p><p> Thank you all so much for reading! May you continue finding fanfics and other writings that tickle your fancy!</p><p> </p><p>~BreakerBroken</p><p>18 May 2020</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"> <em> <strong>EPILOGUE NOTES</strong> </em> </span>
</p><p> </p><p>Melissa: </p>
<ul>
<li>She gets her job at the library back, and is glad to get to work with Clara and Jack every day. She spends her nights with Brooklyn, when he’s not doing ‘his gargoyle stuff.’ Some nights, she shifts to her gargoyle form and gets to patrol with the Manhattan Clan</li>
<li>She moves to a new apartment, one that’s still somewhat close to the Civic Center, and is on the top floor of the building</li>
<li>So far, secretary duties have included fetching random candy from corner bodegas. The most interesting request so far has been for a big box of ¡Sponch! marshmallow cookies (Author’s Note: Was ¡Sponch! around in the 90’s? Unclear, I couldn’t find the history. But they’re delicious, so I stand by it)</li>
<li>Mephistopheles (mysteriously) provides a legitimately generous stipend. She uses part of it for the apartment, and the rest she saves for her errands, because Mephistopheles does <em>not</em> provide her ‘extra funds’ for his purchases</li>
<li>She hasn’t needed to sleep or eat for a while, which worried her at first, but she’s figured out how to eat and sleep ‘for fun’</li>
<li>The deal with seeing the Doctor Disease mask in her dreams? What can I say, dreams are mysterious, my dudes</li>
<li>(Future) She’s been changing her age around humans as the years have gone on, and changing her age more slowly around the gargoyles. She has very bittersweet feelings about the idea of living past her friends, family, and even Brooklyn. She’s tried not to think about it, for now</li>
<li>(Author’s Note: So, <em>why</em> did I pull a Sookie/<em>so many protagonists from YA books</em> and have her become a fae? Because I couldn’t break my own heart, guys. I wrestled with having them break up to make the whole Katana thing still work for him, but <em>I</em> couldn’t do it. I also couldn’t handle the idea of them having to deal with her aging faster. Is it an idealistic, somewhat ridiculous ending? Yes. But I couldn’t have it any other way! I COULDN’T BREAK MY OWN HEART T_T)</li>
</ul><p>Brooklyn:</p>
<ul>
<li>He’s been enjoying his relationship with Melissa, continuing to patrol (and go on the other adventures in the show)</li>
<li>He still struggles from time to time with the fact that Melissa turned fae, especially when she talks about running errands for Mephistopheles. They’re working on it together</li>
</ul><p>Clara: </p>
<ul>
<li>Took time off of work to spend time with Fatimah, getting to re-know her and helping her re-adjust to living outside of Zebolim</li>
</ul><p>Fatimah: </p>
<ul>
<li>For the most part, is doing okay. It’s an adjustment, and there is a lot that she has to deal with, but with her wife Clara by her side, she’s taking it day-by-day</li>
<li>She’s been making warbat and mujadara nonstop</li>
</ul><p>Mephistopheles:</p>
<ul>
<li>(Future, post The Gathering) Because the terms of his deal with Melissa required her to be able to stay with Brooklyn, and fae ‘servants’ must stay with their ‘master,’ he was forced to be banished from Avalon. Which was exactly what he wanted.</li>
<li>He’s getting better at dropping the endearments, and at figuring out what exactly a secretary <em>does</em>
</li>
<li>Plans to have Melissa fetch him more ¡Sponch!</li>
</ul><p>Elisa:</p>
<ul>
<li>Similar to Fatimah, she takes a little time to get re-adjusted. Chief Chavez requires her to go to a set amount of therapy sessions to make sure she’s mentally ready for the field</li>
<li>She hasn’t told Goliath how she feels yet, but she’s becoming more open to telling him. Someday</li>
<li>She and Melissa get coffee regularly, and are becoming good friends</li>
</ul><p>Goliath:</p>
<ul>
<li>He watched over Elisa all night, every night for two weeks straight, until she told him to <em>relax</em>
</li>
<li>He’s still wrestling to understand his feelings for Elisa</li>
</ul><p>Lexington and Broadway:</p>
<ul>
<li>They’ve continued living their lives, teasing Brooklyn and each other, watching movies and tinkering with technology, and going on patrols and adventures</li>
</ul><p>Bronx:</p>
<ul>
<li>That beef bone, tho</li>
<li>Melissa brings him a new beef bone every week</li>
</ul><p>Hudson:</p>
<ul>
<li>Got back to his comfy armchair</li>
<li>Started reading through the books of folktales that Melissa left until she had to return them to the Main Branch</li>
</ul><p>Sevarius:</p>
<ul>
<li>Returns to work for Xanatos in secret (making the time between his faked death and returning to work for Xanatos by the end of the “Metamorphosis” episode a lot longer, but <em>I’m trying here, guys!</em>)</li>
<li>All trace of his presence at Zebolim was expertly erased, as promised, and Elisa and Matt have been unable to prove that he survived the beating by the captives</li>
</ul><p>Xanatos:</p>
<ul>
<li>Explained to the police department that he was working with Matt, but was ‘afraid for his life’ and exited the party early</li>
<li>Unknown to the others, Xanatos’ expert team also erased all evidence of his shell companies’ investments in War and Disease’s sectors, also retrieving any proprietary technology that they could, moving them to Gen-U-Tech </li>
</ul><p>Owen:</p>
<ul>
<li>Is Puck. Not sure I made that totally clear, and the show reveals that after The Gathering</li>
<li>Continues to work with Xanatos</li>
<li>Meets with Mephistopheles occasionally, and is ambivalent on ¡Sponch!</li>
</ul><p>Jack and Dev:</p>
<ul>
<li>I hope the ‘roommates’ thing made sense. Jack and Dev are both aro-ace, but feel closer than just ‘friends’ and plan to stay together. They’ve decided to use the term ‘roommates,’ and most close friends (like Clara, Evelyn, and eventually Melissa) are aware of their commitment to each other</li>
<li>Dev is nonbinary, and I envisoned them as a little bit Joan Jett, a little bit David Bowie, and entirely fashion-forward with punk/rock twists</li>
</ul><p>More Details about the Four Horsemen &amp; the Party:</p>
<ul>
<li>Father Famine was a CEO of an agribusiness company focused on raising his profits. He was captured in the raid</li>
<li>The Minister of War was a Private Security Contractor who would sell whatever he invented to the highest bidder. He was captured in the raid</li>
<li>Reaver, aka NYPL President Connor Harding, became interested in death and decay in his early twenties after reading several books about H. H. Holmes, the infamous Chicago serial killer whose crimes spanned 1891-1894. The Gehenna house was constructed in homage to Holmes' "Murder Castle." Harding was the one who gathered the other men who would become the Four Horsemen. And he's really fucking sexist, if you couldn't tell. He was retrieved from the quicklime pit with horrible chemical burns on his body, mostly on his feet and hands from scrambling around the pit, looking for a way out. And it serves him <em>right</em>
</li>
<li>All the staff for the event, except for Mephistopheles, were actors. Also except for Mephistopheles, the same actor is never hired twice</li>
<li>How were they able to build cities in the middle of a national park? How were they able to kidnap so many people and not get caught? How were they able to hire actors and convince them that all of the terrible things they were seeing were just party tricks? One word: Bribes</li>
<li>The book of signatures, handprints, and vials of blood taken from the guests by the Three Fates mysteriously disappeared during the raid, although one of the Fates reported seeing people in dark clothing near the side room where they were stored. They did not look like police officers</li>
<li>In past parties, if new guests didn't ultimately choose to become part of the Legion of the Four Horsemen and Reap the Benefits (barf) of investing in them, they would be given injections of a serum, invented by Doctor Disease/Sevarius, that would wipe their memories of the last twenty four hours. The guests were then strongly persuaded that they had attended an unremarkable masquerade ball and gotten too drunk to remember the evening, and escorted safely back to their homes</li>
</ul><p>The Triple Date:</p>
<ul>
<li>Brooklyn endured the last use of the transformation ring to meet for a late-night dinner with Melissa, Clara &amp; Fatimah, and Jack &amp; Dev</li>
<li>It went well! But Brooklyn is glad to not have to transform ever again</li>
</ul><p>This Story vs. The Show/Comics:</p>
<ul>
<li>Real talk, I’ve never read the comics. I only know about Katana and other comic information from the wiki I’ve been using, so I’ve focused on trying to make this story fit generally with the show. Generally. Kind of. As best as I could while still getting the ending I wanted XD</li>
</ul><p>
  <span class="u"> <em> <strong>YouTube Links</strong> </em> </span>
</p><p><span class="u"></span>(In no particular order)</p>
<ol>
<li>
<em>Judo Jymnastics</em> <a href="https://youtu.be/w8BQ64TtKnQ">https://youtu.be/w8BQ64TtKnQ</a>
</li>
<li>"Gloomy Sunday" by Billie Holiday <a href="https://youtu.be/KUCyjDOlnPU">https://youtu.be/KUCyjDOlnPU</a>
</li>
<li>"The Second Waltz" composed by Shostakovich, performed by André Rieu <a href="https://youtu.be/vauo4o-ExoY">https://youtu.be/vauo4o-ExoY</a>
</li>
<li>"Misty" by Ella Fitzgerald <a href="https://youtu.be/rPOlakkBlj8">https://youtu.be/rPOlakkBlj8</a>
</li>
<li>"Only You" by Yazoo <a href="https://youtu.be/D7OVZ-CgMwM">https://youtu.be/D7OVZ-CgMwM</a>
</li>
<li>"Dream a Little Dream" performed by Pink Martini (feat. The von Trapps) <a href="https://youtu.be/nuzaSmVyBlA">https://youtu.be/nuzaSmVyBlA</a>
</li>
<li>"Bad Reputation" by Joan Jett and the Blackhearts <a href="https://youtu.be/JaoMgaBafFg">https://youtu.be/JaoMgaBafFg</a>
</li>
<li>"Sadrach, Meshach, &amp; Abednego" performed by Ford Leary <a href="https://youtu.be/xa4QSweFQYE">https://youtu.be/xa4QSweFQYE</a>
</li>
<li>"Death Don't Have No Mercy" by Rev. Gary Davis <a href="https://youtu.be/PXPh7EbB1Tw">https://youtu.be/PXPh7EbB1Tw</a>
</li>
<li>"Death, Have Mercy" by Vera Hall <a href="https://youtu.be/AGwYD31dweo">https://youtu.be/AGwYD31dweo</a>
</li>
</ol>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>THANK YOU FOR READING MY WORK! ~BreakerBroken</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0056"><h2>56. BONUS 1: Unexpected Turbulence</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>This popped into my head and I had to share, it's totally stupid I hope you enjoy it!!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Gusts of wind raced between the tall buildings of the Manhattan skyline, the cold light of a full moon shining down on a too-bright city.</p><p> </p><p>Goliath inhaled deeply. The scent of spring was on the air.</p><p> </p><p>The Trio was already out on patrol. Hudson and Bronx were by the television inside of the clock tower. Melissa was watching over Elisa tonight. They were having  a 'sleep-over,' a bonding event involving food and pajamas.</p><p> </p><p>Elisa was safe. She had been for a few months. And while no amount of time spent out of villainous clutches was going to make him lower his guard, Goliath felt at ease for the first time in a long time.</p><p> </p><p>He could feel the weight lift from his shoulders and chest.</p><p> </p><p>From his heart.</p><p> </p><p>He hadn't talked to Elisa yet about his feelings of fondness for her. He told himself that it was because he was still trying to understand these feelings.</p><p> </p><p>Goliath took another deep breath. The cold air and the sharp gusts of wind were bracing, invigorating.</p><p> </p><p>It was a good evening to glide above the city. Staying vigilant, of course, but being able to glide and observe silently. To enjoy a bit of solitude.</p><p> </p><p>Perhaps even to contemplate his fond feelings for Elisa.</p><p> </p><p>Goliath spread his wings and dove off the edge of the clock tower, catching the updraft and beginning his solitary patrol. The chilly winter air combed through his hair and trailed along his skin, his wings, his tail.</p><p> </p><p>The wind carried him steadily past the Empire State Building, around the various office buildings, and above Times Square.</p><p> </p><p>On a whim, he decided to take a lap around the Statue of Liberty.</p><p> </p><p>He patrolled the city until the horizon started lightening, and he turned back towards the clock tower. </p><p> </p><p>Back towards home.</p><p> </p><p>Then the wind died.</p><p> </p><p>"?!"</p><p> </p><p>The sudden pocket of dead air forced him to drop like a stone.</p><p> </p><p>"JALAPEÑ-"</p><p> </p><p>Then the wind was back.</p><p> </p><p>He quickly returned to his original altitude on the new updraft.</p><p> </p><p>"It's a good thing no one was here to see that," he mumbled to himself. He hadn't made a mistake like that since he was a hatchling.</p><p> </p><p>He sighed in relief.</p><p> </p><p>Until he heard the snickers.</p><p> </p><p>"Nice going, <em>Goliath</em>!" "Need us to give you some flying lessons?"  "Maybe he was distracted thinking about <em>you-know-who</em>?"</p><p> </p><p>More snickers.</p><p> </p><p>"Everything really is back to normal..." Goliath grumbled as the Trio caught up with him.</p><p> </p><p>They mimicked his embarrassing drop in altitude as they all glided back to the clock tower together.</p><p> </p><p>One of the several reenactments by Brooklyn gained sudden believability as <em>he</em> was surprised by a dead spot.</p><p> </p><p>"And then he was all, 'Oooh, nooo-' <em>SHIT, FUCK!</em>"</p><p> </p><p>He righted himself quickly, but not quickly enough.</p><p> </p><p>The other two begin to snicker and tease Brooklyn the rest of the way.</p><p> </p><p>Goliath went into stone sleep with a smile. It was good to be back.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0057"><h2>57. BONUS 2: A Night on the Town</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Several of the gargoyles still have one more transformation left on their enchanted rings...</p><p>Broadway uses his for a night on the town.</p><p>Note: there is mention of alcohol and smoking, and interactions with police. The interactions with police are done in the style of the 90's cartoon and do not address current events.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There was one use of his ring left, and Broadway was going to use it <em>tonight</em>!</p><p> </p><p>Night after night, he'd had to enjoy what he could of the night life from the shadows. Movies from the projection booth, shows from the rafters, dinner via takeout, all of it just out of his reach.</p><p> </p><p>But not anymore! Not tonight, at least!</p><p> </p><p>He was going to do it all: dinner at a fancy restaurant, a show where he could sit in the <em>actual</em> theater, dancing! And he wouldn't come home until after dawn!</p><p> </p><p>A <em>real </em>night out, just like in the old black-and-white shows he watched! Sure, he watched other things, but there was something more sophisticated about the black-and-white detective flicks and shows.</p><p> </p><p>The winter sun set early, giving him plenty of time to get ready for the big night.</p><p> </p><p>The suit Matt had managed to dig up for him from the precinct's Lost and Found wasn't nearly as suave as the one he had worn for the rescue mission a month ago. He regretted transforming while still wearing it, but there hadn't been any time to change out of it. Still, this one fit well enough. It was black, with a white button-down shirt and a bright red tie. The shoes were brown, but they'd have to do. His human feet were too big to fit in the black ones he had tried. He wore his trench coat and matching fedora over it, completing his outfit.</p><p> </p><p>Perfect.</p><p> </p><p>Goliath had been nervous about letting him go out on his own, but Broadway insisted. He told him it was about getting the full human experience.</p><p> </p><p>He didn't tell Goliath or the others that he also didn't want them to cramp his style. Not tonight!</p><p> </p><p>First thing's first: dinner.</p><p> </p><p>He headed to 321 West 46th Street. Barbetta Restaurant. Because you couldn't go wrong with Italian!</p><p> </p><p>He walked into the restaurant and stared at the brilliant crystal chandelier in the center of the dining room.</p><p> </p><p>"May I help you?" The maître d' eyed Broadway, probably not used to seeing someone stop and stare at the restaurant. Broadway thought they must usually get more sophisticated customers, ones who had seen their fair share of crystal chandeliers and fancy, gilded chairs.</p><p> </p><p>"I'd like a table!" He answered enthusiastically.</p><p> </p><p>The maître d's expression became haughty. "Name?"</p><p> </p><p>"Brody Antrim. Nice to meet ya!"</p><p> </p><p>He raised an eyebrow. "Pleasure." His eyes flicked down to the list in front of him and back up to Broadway. "It appears that you aren't on the list, Mr. Antrim."</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, did I need a reservation?"</p><p> </p><p>The maître d' pursed his lips. "Yes."</p><p> </p><p>"Uh, can I make one for later tonight?"</p><p> </p><p>The maître d's face turned sour. "The next opening we have is three months from now."</p><p> </p><p>Broadway's heart sank. He tried to cheer himself up, thinking he could go to a more casual, but still famous, restaurant like Katz's Delicatessen.</p><p> </p><p>"He can join us!" A woman's voice said from behind him.</p><p> </p><p>He turned around to see a couple dressed to the nines. The woman wore red lipstick and high stiletto heels, a black dress hugging her curves. Her date, a man in a dapper, well-tailored suit, nodded. "You're more than welcome to, my good man. We love a fresh face for company!"</p><p> </p><p>The maître d's face lit up at the sight of the couple. Clearly, <em>they</em> were the types who belonged in such a fancy restaurant. "Of course! What name is your reservation under?"</p><p> </p><p>"Barrow," the man replied, holding his hand out to the maître d' and shaking it heartily. "Originally for two, but I'm sure you can make that three, huh?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yes sir, of course! Right this way, Mr and Mrs. Barrow!"</p><p> </p><p>"It's Ms. Parker, actually," the woman added in. She smiled, showing the maître d' that there were no hard feelings. "And of course, you'll dine with us, Mr.-?"</p><p> </p><p>"Antrim. Brody Antrim. Pleasure to make your acquaintance!" Broadway tipped his hat to her. "Thanks for inviting me. I've wanted to eat here since I heard about the place!"</p><p> </p><p>They were shown to a table out in the courtyard garden, next to the fountain. Lights were strung between tall trees, and the tables were covered in white tablecloths. Large braziers dotted the courtyard between tables, keeping the diners warm underneath the winter night sky.</p><p> </p><p>"Lucky for you that you that we came along," Mr. Barrow said with a smile. He held the chair out for Ms. Parker, who sank into gracefully, then sat himself. Broadway folded his jacket over the back of his chair and followed his lead, setting his hat on the table.</p><p> </p><p>Mr. Barrow held his hand out to Broadway. "I'm Clyde, and this beauty here is Bonnie."</p><p> </p><p>"Brody," Broadway said, shaking Clyde's hand. "How'd you convince that guy to add me onto your reservation? He seemed pretty peeved before you got there."</p><p> </p><p>"I slipped him a hundred in the handshake, of course." Clyde's smile was smug.</p><p> </p><p>He had bribed the maître d' to let them add Broadway in, and it made him uncomfortable. Was he expected to pay them back?</p><p> </p><p>"Our treat, of course," Bonnie added, as if she could read his mind.</p><p> </p><p>"Wow, thanks!"</p><p> </p><p>Clyde and Bonnie talked circles around Broadway over the four-course pre-theatre dinner. He let the couple order for him, which delighted them, and they got the most expensive dishes and drinks available. An aged, dry red wine to accompany the pasta. A mild white to go with the expensive seafood main course and third-course salad. Sweet port with the creme brûlée dessert. And coffee with Frangelico to cap off the evening.</p><p> </p><p>Broadway's head spun with all of the alcohol, but Clyde and Bonnie didn't seem affected in the slightest.</p><p> </p><p>"We should toast to our new friend!" Bonnie snapped her fingers to summon the nearest waiter. "Please bring us a bottle of your oldest Dom Pérignon."</p><p> </p><p>The waiter looked a bit nervous. "Are you sure, madam? It's quite...um..."</p><p> </p><p>"Expensive?" Clyde raised his eyebrow and smiled. "Not a problem, young man. But it is kind of you to be so attentive to our needs." He took out his wallet and handed the nervous waiter a crisp $100 bill. "For your trouble."</p><p> </p><p>The waiter took the bill and looked more relaxed. Apparently the tip set him at ease about Clyde and Bonnie's ability to pay for such an expensive bottle of bubbly wine. He bowed slightly and quickly rushed off.</p><p> </p><p>But Broadway was still uneasy. During the second course he realized that there was no way he had enough to pay for the extravagant dinner. What little money he had was scrounged up from forgotten bills on the street, stray $1, $5, and sometimes $10 bills. Nowhere near enough to pay for an appetizer here, let alone the full meal that they had ordered him. And now, on top of all of the food and alcohol, he was going to owe them a third of a bottle of expensive champagne. How much would it cost? $100? $200? He had no idea.</p><p> </p><p>The waiter reappeared with three crystal champagne flutes and a bucket of ice on a stand. The bottle of champagne was nestled in the ice. He also carried a large, sharp knife. "Sirs and madam, I have a particular trick I do to open champagne bottles, if you're interested?"</p><p> </p><p>Clyde and Bonnie shared a look, twinkles in their eyes. "Please, go ahead! I do so love a party trick," Bonnie said with a smile.</p><p> </p><p>The waiter held up the bottle at an angle, and in one swift motion, he used the knife to slice <em>through</em> the glass! The champagne began foaming and spilling from the bottle, but the waiter quickly tipped the liquid into the champagne flutes, only losing a little to the ground. All three of them applauded the waiter, who smiled and bowed. He wrapped a crisp white linen towel around the bottle and set it back in the bucket of ice, then quietly left the table.</p><p> </p><p>Clyde and Bonnie raised their champagne flutes, looking at Broadway. He quickly did the same.</p><p> </p><p>"A toast to our new friend, Brody!" Bonnie smiled at him.</p><p> </p><p>"A kindred spirit if I ever met one!" Clyde added.</p><p> </p><p>They clinked their champagne flutes and sipped at the fancy wine. It was very dry, which Broadway assumed meant it was good.</p><p> </p><p>"Thanks again for inviting me to eat with you guys." He had stopped feeling dizzy, but he was starting to get a headache. Maybe this was the hangover people always mentioned in TV shows and movies? He wondered briefly about where he would get the fizzy white tablets that he would probably need tomorrow morning. Unless stone sleep could take care of hangovers...</p><p> </p><p>He shook his head. "But, I need to be honest with you. I don't think I can pay for dinner." It made him embarrassed to say it, and he could feel shame making his face turn red.</p><p> </p><p>Clyde and Bonnie looked at each other, then back at Broadway. They'd probably start yelling at him soon.</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, Brody, it's not an issue in the slightest!" Bonnie said with a kind smile. Clyde nodded.</p><p> </p><p>"Gee, that's...awful nice of you guys!" Broadway rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "But...it's a lot of money..."</p><p> </p><p>They shared another look and turned back to Broadway one again.</p><p> </p><p>"Let's just enjoy the rest of the champagne, then we'll figure it out," Clyde said, raising his flute again. "Plus, we've talked all night about <em>us</em>, let's hear about <em>you</em>, Brody!"</p><p> </p><p>"Oh. What do you want to know?"</p><p> </p><p>"Let's start with what you do for a living?" Bonnie leaned forward, sipping her champagne delicately.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm a...detective!" It was the best cover he could think of, since Broadway knew a little bit about being a detective from his favorite TV shows and movies. And from knowing Matt and Elisa.</p><p> </p><p>But it must have been the wrong thing to say, because suddenly his dining companions sat bolt upright, looking at him like he was a snake about to strike.</p><p> </p><p>"A detective?!" He could hear the worry in Bonnie's voice. "With the NYPD?!"</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, no! No, I'm more of a P.I., working on my own! Hitting the streets, taking on clients...all of that..."</p><p> </p><p>They relaxed a little, but not completely.</p><p> </p><p>"How...<em>attached</em> are you to following the law?" Clyde tried to look casual, swirling the champagne in his glass but eyeing Broadway.</p><p> </p><p>Broadway leaned forward, a devious look on his face. "Sometimes, to get the job done, you need to work <em>outside</em> of the law, you know?"</p><p> </p><p><em>Broadway</em> cared about staying somewhat within the law, for Matt and Elisa's sake, but <em>Brody</em>, he decided, was more of a loose cannon.</p><p> </p><p>Clyde and Bonnie looked at each other again. Clyde raised an eyebrow, but Bonnie frowned, then tilted her head towards Broadway and with a skeptical expression. Clyde shrugged his shoulders. They were having an entire conversation without saying anything, but Broadway could almost follow it.</p><p> </p><p>They were deciding whether or not to trust him. But, trust him with what?</p><p> </p><p>The couple stared at each other for a few more seconds, Clyde raising both of his eyebrows in an 'Oh, come on,' kind of look, while Bonnie's face said 'Are you <em>sure</em>?'</p><p> </p><p>Then they turned back to him. "Well, that sounds fascinating, Brody," Clyde said. "Got any good stories?"</p><p> </p><p>"Uh, yeah! Sure!" Broadway started repeating the plots of his favorite detective flicks and shows, and Clyde and Bonnie seemed captivated by them. As more champagne was poured, he started embellishing on the plots, making each story more outrageous than the last. He even told them about the time he accidentally shot Elisa. Only in <em>Brody's</em> version, Elisa had been chasing him for stealing a lead from her, and it had been a warning shot gone wrong.</p><p> </p><p>If he had been in his right mind, he <em>never</em> would have told that story, especially not in that way, making those <em>horrible</em> nights seem <em>exciting</em>. He had been so ashamed, and <em>still</em> was. Elisa had forgiven him, but Broadway hadn't forgiven himself. He would have remembered that if he hadn't had so much champagne, and if he wasn't caught up in pretending to be Brody Antrim, the Private Investigator who operated Outside of The Law.</p><p> </p><p>By the time the champagne bottle was empty, they were 'oohing' and 'ahhing' at his wild tales.</p><p> </p><p>Clyde checked his watch. "Say, it's about time to get to the show, don't you think?"</p><p> </p><p>Bonnie pulled his wrist towards her to check the watch herself. "Oh, my! Yes! We're going to be late!" She picked up her clutch and looked at Broadway. "Are you ready to get out of here, Brody?"</p><p> </p><p>The champagne had clouded Broadway's head again, but something was bothering him. "Don't we...have to pay for dinner first?"</p><p> </p><p>Clyde and Bonnie exchanged another look. Then Bonnie smiled viciously.</p><p> </p><p>"Not if you're fast enough!"</p><p> </p><p>Suddenly they both jumped up and ran out of the courtyard! Broadway watched them for a second, stunned, and then realized.</p><p> </p><p>They were skipping out on the check!</p><p> </p><p>He got up and grabbed his coat and hat, stumbling a bit from the alcohol.</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Hey!</em>" He heard from somewhere behind him.</p><p> </p><p>He ran.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Broadway ran down the sidewalk, trying to find Clyde and Bonnie. But they had disappeared, and Broadway was too scared to stop and thoroughly look for them in the crowd. He could hear the maître d's voice calling after him angrily, the sound of his thin leather soles sharp on the pavement.</p><p> </p><p>A hand shot out of a small alleyway and grabbed Broadway, tugging him off of the sidewalk suddenly and out of sight. He held his breath as the maître d' kept running past the alleyway. He sighed in relief, then turned to face his rescuer.</p><p> </p><p>Make that 'rescuers.' It was Clyde and Bonnie.</p><p> </p><p>"What the heck was that?!" Broadway shouted.</p><p> </p><p>Bonnie shushed him, placing a finger against his lips. "That waiter isn't done looking for us, we have to keep quiet until the coast is clear, silly!"</p><p> </p><p>Broadway shook her off of him. "<em>No</em>! We ran out on the check! We have to go back and pay them!"</p><p> </p><p>"With what?" Clyde sneered. "You already said <em>you</em> didn't have any money."</p><p> </p><p>"But, you gave both the maître d' and that waiter $100 each! Don't <em>you</em> have money?"</p><p> </p><p>Bonnie shook her head. "Brody, of course we <em>don't</em> have money, not like the <em>real</em> rich people. We have just enough to make people <em>think</em> we're rich." She looked him up and down. "You should know that, since you're like <em>us</em>!"</p><p> </p><p>"I'm <em>not</em> like you!"</p><p> </p><p>"Oh <em>really?</em>" Clyde took a cigarette out of his jacket pocket and leaned up against the alley wall, lighting it. He took a long drag off of it. "Then why didn't <em>you</em> stick around and pay the check? Or were you planning to 'do the right thing' and wash dishes to pay for your dinner?" He rolled his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>Bonnie giggled again. Broadway realized that her giggle was more like a cackle. "Oh, it would take at least a week of washing the dinner-rush dishes to pay for all of <em>that</em>! But instead of doing dishes, you <em>ran</em>, and now you’re <em>here</em>!"</p><p> </p><p>"With <em>us</em>. Face it, buddy," Clyde said with a condescending smile. "You're just like us."</p><p> </p><p>Broadway was shocked into silence.</p><p> </p><p>"We could tell as soon as we heard your name," Bonnie said coyly. " 'Antrim,' like one of Billy the Kid's pseudonyms? A fairly obscure reference. I'm impressed."</p><p> </p><p>"So?" Broadway would have left by now, but he was too scared of getting caught by the maître d'.</p><p> </p><p>"You really didn't recognize <em>our</em> names? Truly?" Clyde sounded surprised, and Bonnie cackled.</p><p> </p><p>Clyde and Bonnie.</p><p> </p><p>As in, Bonnie and Clyde.</p><p> </p><p>"Those aren't your real names," Broadway said slowly.</p><p> </p><p>"<em>There</em> we go! You figured it out!" Clyde clapped a few times, a condescending round of applause, the cigarette dangling from his mouth.</p><p> </p><p>"So here we are, a lovely little trio of liars!" Bonnie smiled. "You better stick with us, <em>Brody</em>. You don't want to get caught by the police, do you?"</p><p> </p><p>"You'd really call the cops? On <em>me</em>? You two would get in just as much trouble as I would!"</p><p> </p><p>"Would we?" Bonnie ran her fingers along her gold necklace. "We've been dine-and-dashing fancy restaurants, helping ourselves to clothes and other beautiful things, sneaking into the top shows for...how many years now, Clyde?"</p><p> </p><p>"Gotta be at least three years by now." Clyde smiled. "Enough big cities in the U.S. to keep on the move and still live it up, <em>without</em> getting caught."</p><p> </p><p>"That's despicable," Broadway growled. "Stealing just to <em>pretend</em> you have a nice life."</p><p> </p><p>"Isn't that what you were chasing after tonight?" Bonnie asked with a smirk. "A classic night out, like a vintage Hollywood star? Well, you got part of it with that fancy dinner. How about we keep this party going?"</p><p> </p><p>"We're going to hit up <em>Guys and Dolls</em> on Broadway." Clyde pushed himself off of the wall and clapped his hand on Broadway's shoulder. "Might as well come with us, Brody. Since the three of us are now partners in crime."</p><p> </p><p>Broadway shook him off. "No way, I'm not going to let you guys drag me into any more trouble!"</p><p> </p><p>Then Broadway felt something sharp against his side.</p><p> </p><p>"Drag you?" Bonnie's smile was as sharp as the pearly-handled switchblade she had pressed to his side. "Don't be silly!"</p><p> </p><p>"We're your <em>friends</em>, Brody." Clyde readjusted his jacket, making sure Broadway saw the gun holster underneath it. "You want to spend time with your friends, right?"</p><p> </p><p>Broadway stayed quiet. They may be hidden in this little alleyway, but there was no way he could transform back into a gargoyle and escape without the throngs of people on the sidewalk noticing. And he couldn't dodge both a knife <em>and</em> a gun.</p><p> </p><p>For now, he'd have to go along with them.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Bonnie and Clyde had snuck into the theater using the delivery entrance, Broadway reluctantly following Clyde while Bonnie kept her knife pressed against him. She hid the knife from view by taking his arm, like they were together. The three of them snuck into an empty box seat on stage left.</p><p> </p><p>Broadway wished he could actually enjoy the show. It was one of the last performances of the revival, and the jaunty 1940's songs and the cheesy love stories were exactly the kind of things he liked in a musical. But it was hard to enjoy <em>Guys and Dolls</em> when he knew that he was a captive audience of one. Emphasis on <em>captive</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Bonnie and Clyde laughed and gasped and sighed, thoroughly enjoying the entire show. Clyde got the three of them drinks during intermission, while Bonnie stayed with Broadway to 'keep him company.' When Clyde returned with more wine, Broadway took his glass but didn't drink it. He needed a clear head to get out of this.</p><p> </p><p>He had tried to excuse himself to go to the restroom, see if he couldn't sneak away, but Clyde had 'offered' to go with him, so no luck there. He'd have to wait for the right moment.</p><p> </p><p>The show ended and the house lights came up after a standing ovation.</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, how fun!" Bonnie bounced up from her seat. It must have been close to midnight, but she was wide awake and full of energy. "Let's go dancing, next! Somewhere fun!"</p><p> </p><p>"Couldn't agree more." Clyde smiled. "We can see how well you cut a rug, Brody."</p><p> </p><p>"Are you sure we shouldn't call it a night?" Broadway was on edge, wondering if they even <em>intended</em> to let him go.</p><p> </p><p>They both glared at him. "Nonsense, Brody. I'm <em>so</em> looking forward to dancing with you." Bonnie hooked her arm around his, and he felt the edge of the knife at his side once again.</p><p> </p><p>"Dancing it is, then," he grumbled. It was the evening he had been looking forward to - dinner, a show, dancing - and he even had a beautiful woman on his arm <em>and</em> a handsome man by his side. But they were dangerous, and their presence made him wonder when this Nightmare on the Town was going to end.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Bonnie and Clyde sprung for a taxi to take them to an old, small church. It wasn't a far walk, but they insisted. It was frivolous and overly extravagant. Bonnie used another $100 bill that she had stashed away in her clutch to pay the driver, telling him to keep the change while winking at Broadway. </p><p> </p><p>Broadway glared at her. That was money that could have gone towards paying for their dinner, leaving the restaurant <em>something</em>, and now Bonnie was waving around another huge bill for a $5 taxi fare. It was infuriating. </p><p> </p><p>"Don't be such a wet blanket," she whispered in his ear. He sat in the middle between them, as if they already knew that he had thought about opening the door and rolling out of the taxi as they drove. It's like they could read his mind.</p><p> </p><p>There was a huge line of people waiting outside of the church. Pounding bass shook the brick walls, and Broadway could make out bright flashing lights through the church's stained glass windows.</p><p> </p><p>"Limelight. Love this place." Clyde was smiling, loosening his tie.</p><p> </p><p>"Wait, this church is a club?"</p><p> </p><p>"Indeed it is," Bonnie smiled, once again tucking herself, and her knife, by his side. Bonnie and Clyde started walking him to the side of the church. </p><p> </p><p>"I don't think we're dressed for this place," Broadway said, looking at the people waiting to go inside. Many of them wore clothes that showed a lot more skin than his traditional suit did.</p><p> </p><p>Suddenly he felt out of place, and old. He <em>was</em> over one thousand years old, but he'd never <em>felt </em>old until now.</p><p> </p><p>Clyde stopped and looked Broadway up and down. "No one will think twice about what we're wearing. You have to loosen up a little. But if you're <em>that</em> worried about it, I can help you out."</p><p> </p><p>Clyde took Broadway's hat off his head and his trench coat off his arm and tossed them into some nearby bushes. "<em>Hey</em>!"</p><p> </p><p>Clyde chuckled. "Don't worry, you know exactly where they are. It's better than a coat check, I promise." He pulled Broadway's suit jacket off next, tossing it aside with the trench coat and hat.</p><p> </p><p>Clyde took his time undoing Broadway's tie, sliding it off of him more slowly than he needed to, before throwing it, too, into the bushes. Then he reached up and sunk his fingers into Broadway's hair, undoing the carefully slicked-down hairdo that Broadway had started the night with. Broadway was unsure what his hair would look like now. What was the point in messing it up?</p><p> </p><p>Clyde finished whatever he was doing to Broadway's hair, then slowly lowered his hands, staring into Broadway's eyes.</p><p> </p><p>Broadway didn't react, and Clyde's expression turned sour.</p><p> </p><p>Bonnie chuckled and reached her arms around Broadway's shoulders, ready to undo a few of the buttons on his shirt. He could feel her press up against him, her breath soft against his neck. He grabbed both of her hands with one of his.</p><p> </p><p>"I can do that on my own."</p><p> </p><p>She huffed, moving over to Clyde and fussing over his outfit instead.</p><p> </p><p>Broadway looked at them from the corner of his eye as he undid a few buttons on his shirt, then rolled up his shirtsleeves. They both looked pissed off. He knew their anger was due to the fact that he wasn't taking the bait that both of them were trying to dangle in front of him.</p><p> </p><p>They might have been able to read his mind when it came to his escape attempts, but he could read theirs, too. They thought if they could <em>seduce</em> him, they'd have him as a long-term accomplice hook, line, and sinker. But no matter how good they looked on the outside, he knew they were rotten to the core.</p><p> </p><p>It wasn't going to happen.</p><p> </p><p>Clyde kept his suit jacket on, pushing up the sleeves and rolling his shirtsleeves over them. He looked more 80's than 90's. Bonnie had done some kind of origami to her dress, tucking and lifting the fabric until had shrunk into a minidress. They still weren't going to look like they <em>belonged</em> in Limelight, but they did look a little trendier.</p><p> </p><p>They snuck in using yet another $100 bill from Bonnie's clutch, handing it to a bartender on a smoke break. She waved them through the propped-open door next to her without a second glance.</p><p> </p><p>The crowd jumped and swayed to the electronic notes and frantic beats of the techno blaring from the speakers. Flashing lights made people look like they were moving in slow motion while multicolored lasers swiveled and crossed in time to the music. It was so loud Broadway could barely think.</p><p> </p><p>He had been sure that he could lose the couple the crowd, but he had been wrong. One or both of them was always near him. He stood awkwardly on the dance floor, not moving, until he couldn't resist the beat anymore.</p><p> </p><p>He may have been a hostage, but he was still technically out on the town. He could still have fun.</p><p> </p><p>And he was stuck here anyway.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Why not have some fun and dance?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>He started to mimic the crowd around him, bouncing and swaying, letting his body move however it wanted to the music. It was freeing, like gliding on a wild gust of wind, letting his body take the lead instead of his mind.</p><p> </p><p>Bonnie and Clyde laughed in delight. He still didn't like them, or trust them, or want to be with them.</p><p> </p><p>But he <em>did</em> want to dance. At least for a while.</p><p> </p><p>Sometimes Broadway danced with other random club goers, bouncing in sync or mirroring their movements, but most of the time he danced by himself. Always under the watchful eyes of Bonnie and Clyde. But despite the fact that he was still in their clutches, he was able to lose himself in the music and actually enjoy the club.</p><p> </p><p>Then it was time to go. Bonnie tugged on his hand while Clyde grabbed his shoulders, pushing him through the crowd towards the exit.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The freezing air felt great, cooling Broadway off after what must have been hours of dancing. It also cleared his head. He stared up at the night sky, wondering what the others were doing. </p><p> </p><p>He had told them not to expect him back before dawn. Now he wished he had some backup. Brooklyn had already used the last of his ring's transformations, so he was out. But he should have invited Lex, or maybe even Goliath or Hudson.</p><p> </p><p>But he had wanted to do this on his own, to really <em>own</em> tonight.</p><p> </p><p>And now Bonnie and Clyde owned <em>him</em>.</p><p> </p><p>"Hey pal, don't forget to go by 'coat check' to get your things." Clyde smirked and nodded to the bushes. Luckily for Broadway, all of his things were still there. He had started shivering, his sweat-soaked shirt cooling rapidly in the cold wind. He gladly shrugged on both the suit jacket and his trench coat. His hat protected his head, and he shoved his tie in his pocket.</p><p> </p><p>"What's next, boys?" Bonnie tugged at her dress, letting it fall to its original length.</p><p> </p><p>"Bonnie, I think I'd like to take you and Brody shopping." Clyde's smirk grew.</p><p> </p><p>Bonnie clapped her hands. "Oh goody, I was <em>hoping</em> you would say that!"</p><p> </p><p>"Shopping? There's no way any of the stores are open, it's got to be at least four in the morning!" Bonnie and Clyde looked at Broadway, waiting. "Oh. You mean you want to <em>rob</em> a store."</p><p> </p><p>"Smart boy," Bonnie said with a smile. "Clyde, honey, I think I'm in the mood for a ring, with a matching necklace, earrings, and bracelet."</p><p> </p><p>"A diamond set for my pearl?" Clyde took hold of Bonnie's chin and kissed her on the cheek. "You got it."</p><p> </p><p>Broadway shook his head and crossed his arms. "No. No way. I've gone along with all your other schemes, but plain old stealing is way beyond my comfort zone."</p><p> </p><p>Clyde reached into his jacket, and once again Broadway backed down. He wanted to call Clyde's bluff, but his mind kept flashing back to the night he had almost killed Elisa. He had learned his lesson about guns: don't <em>ever</em> underestimate one, especially if it's pointed in your direction. He raised his hands in defeat.</p><p> </p><p>Bonnie, once again, took Broadway's arm. "Now are you going to make me take out my lovely little knife again, or are you going to be good?"</p><p> </p><p>Broadway's jaw tightened, which made Bonnie smile.</p><p> </p><p>"Good <em>and</em> smart."</p><p> </p><p>"Which store are you thinking, doll?" Clyde lit up another cigarette as they started walking.</p><p> </p><p>She cackled. "Cartier! Diamonds are a girl's best friend, after all! And I bet Brody would look grand with a golden cufflink set."</p><p> </p><p>She pinched his cheek.</p><p> </p><p>He couldn't wait to get away from them.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>They must have been telling the truth about their experience burglarizing expensive stores for years, because it took them almost no time at all to break into the Cartier store on 5th Avenue. They had climbed up a fire escape a few buildings away, walked over roofs, gone up and down more fire escapes, until they finally found themselves on the roof of the store. </p><p> </p><p>Clyde picked the lock of the roof-access door. Broadway hoped that they would trip a silent alarm, but Clyde smirked as Bonnie raced through the unlocked door ahead of them.</p><p> </p><p>"She'll find the security panel and disable the alarm. We've got it down to a science," Clyde bragged. "I pick the lock, Bonnie shuts down the alarm system fast enough that the company thinks its a glitch. It's a beautiful system."</p><p> </p><p>He waved Broadway forward, shutting the roof door behind him and locking it. Even now, Broadway wasn't going to be able to get away from the criminal duo.</p><p> </p><p>They met back up with Bonnie and found 'the vault,' a door with three locks and a number panel for entering a security code between them and the precious jewelry.</p><p> </p><p>"Already took care of this," Bonnie beamed, waving towards the panel.</p><p> </p><p>"Then step back and watch me work my magic," Clyde said, taking out his lockpicking tools.</p><p> </p><p>Soon they were inside the vault, where the jewelry was kept safe from burglars like Bonnie and Clyde.</p><p> </p><p>And, by association, Broadway.</p><p> </p><p>Clyde began picking the locks on lockboxes that Bonnie pulled out at random. Once he had unlocked enough, he stood back and watched her cackle and squeal at each piece of jewelry.</p><p> </p><p>Broadway felt sick. He <em>should</em> have stood up to them, risked getting hurt to get away. Ditching the check at the restaurant made him feel crummy enough, as did crashing the show and the club.</p><p> </p><p>But this...this was <em>theft</em>, plain and simple and <em>wrong</em>.</p><p> </p><p>But what could he do? Both Bonnie and Clyde made sure to keep an eye on him, and Clyde had his hand tucked into his jacket, ready to pull out his gun at any second.</p><p> </p><p>Should he just make a run for it? Risk being shot? Would he be fast enough to get away? And if he got away, wouldn't that mean that Bonnie and Clyde could disappear? They <em>had</em> to take responsibility for their crimes, they <em>needed</em> to be arrested. But if they were as good at evading capture as they said they were, he couldn't let them out of his sight.</p><p> </p><p>Then he heard it.</p><p> </p><p>The sound of a door handle turning.</p><p> </p><p>The door burst open. Beams of bright light blinded Broadway.</p><p> </p><p>"NYPD! PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR!"</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Bonnie and Clyde were loaded into the back of a police cruiser. The officer was about to push Broadway into the backseat as well when someone called out, "Not that one!"</p><p> </p><p>Broadway twisted around and saw Detective Matt Bluestone walking up to the car. Relief flooded Broadway. He was about to tell Matt how glad he was to see him, but Matt shook his head slightly.</p><p> </p><p>"We've been looking for this one. He goes with me and Officer Morgan." The police officer shrugged and steered Broadway towards another police cruiser. Bonnie and Clyde shot nasty looks at Broadway. He just smiled back.</p><p> </p><p>Once he was in the cruiser with Officer Morgan and Matt, his handcuffs were unlocked and he was free. "Boy am I glad to see <em>you</em>! How'd you know we were in there?"</p><p> </p><p>"We got a tip from someone calling himself 'Lex,'" Officer Morgan replied. 'Wouldn't give his last name. I still think it was someone trying to use that Batman villain's name as a cover."</p><p> </p><p>Matt laughed. "Maybe so, but the tip off was good. Someone was looking out for you."</p><p> </p><p>Broadway smiled. "I've got some good friends. Glad they were watching out for me tonight."</p><p> </p><p>Officer Morgan looked over his shoulder at Broadway. "Now, I get that you're not the same as those other two crooks, but, if you don't mind me asking, who <em>are</em> you?"</p><p> </p><p>Matt answered for him. "Officer Morgan, allow me to introduce you to Brody Antrim. He's one of the special operatives who helped rescue Detective Maza a while back."</p><p> </p><p>Officer Morgan sighed. "Really wish I'd been there for that. Not that I regret taking that vacation, it was good to spend some time with the family! I just don't like missing out on the action!"</p><p> </p><p>Matt laughed. "Don't worry, Morgan, I get it." He looked at Broadway in the rearview mirror. "Hope you don't mind us 'taking you in,' Brody. We need to get your statement."</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, of course."</p><p> </p><p>There was an awkward silence in the police cruiser. If Officer Morgan hadn't been with them, he and Matt could have hashed out a cover story for Broadway. For why he went along with them instead of getting away or fighting them off.</p><p> </p><p>Then Matt spoke up again. "Can't believe they cornered you on your night off, Brody. Rotten luck."</p><p> </p><p>Good ol' Matt, coming through once again!</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, left my gear at home and everything. Bonnie and Clyde had a knife and a gun, no way I could get away."</p><p> </p><p>"Bonnie and Clyde?" Officer Morgan chuckled. "Quite the nicknames."</p><p> </p><p>"They're aliases," Broadway said confidently. "Picked them out themselves, and I fell for it." His confidence faded as he reflected on the evening. His big night out on the town had been a total bust.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Officer Morgan took his statement while Matt went to question Bonnie and Clyde.</p><p> </p><p>Matt came into the interview room a little while later. "Turns out their real names are Brittney Ferguson and Callum McNeal, and they're wanted in almost every major city in the United States!"</p><p> </p><p>Broadway nodded. "That checks out, they bragged about how they've been getting away with this for three years and they moved around to keep from getting caught." He sighed.</p><p> </p><p>"Alright, <em>Brody</em>," Matt slightly emphasized his false name, which Broadway knew was for the benefit of the two-way mirror in the room. "What's wrong? Normally you'd be pretty excited that the bad guys got caught."</p><p> </p><p>"Of course I'm glad they got caught! I just...I can't believe I went along with them..."</p><p> </p><p>"You couldn't help it, right? They had weapons, you didn't, and from your statement it sounds like they were smart enough to not give you any openings to escape."</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah...But I <em>still </em>should have stood up to them!" He shook his head. "I should have fought harder to get away, to stop them."</p><p> </p><p>Matt paused thoughtfully. "Tell you what, would you feel any better if you got the last laugh?"</p><p> </p><p>Broadway looked up at him. "Huh?"</p><p> </p><p>"They've been dodging our questions, trying to make <em>you</em> out to be the mastermind of their thefts. Maybe we should go and re-introduce you to them." He smiled slyly, and Broadway grinned back.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Bonnie and Clyde whispered to one another while Broadway observed from the other side of the two-way mirror. Matt nodded to him before opening the door and walking in.</p><p> </p><p>This was going to be good.</p><p> </p><p>"Okay you two," he said, sitting down at the table across from them. "Let's try this one more time. Putting aside everything you've done over the past three years, the events of tonight roughly go as follows: you skipped out on the check for an expensive dinner at Barbetta, snuck into the Broadway musical <em>Guys and Dolls</em>, snuck into a club called Limelight - although they don't seem to want to press charges - and then you were caught red-handed in the vault of the Cartier store on 5th. Is that about right?"</p><p> </p><p>They glared at him, which made Broadway smile.</p><p> </p><p>"Now, tell me again: whose idea was this?"</p><p> </p><p>"Like we told you the first, second, <em>fifth</em> time - it was Antrim's idea!" Clyde - Callum - slammed a handcuffed fist on the table.</p><p> </p><p>Bonnie - Brittney - sniffed, dabbing at her eyes with a wadded up tissue. "It was awful! That brute has made us do all sorts of terrible crimes! We couldn't get away from him!"</p><p> </p><p>"He's devious, and a <em>liar</em>, you can't trust a word he says," Callum shouted.</p><p> </p><p>Matt remained calm. "I see. Maybe we should hear what he has to say for himself." Then he turned around and waved Broadway in. </p><p> </p><p>Broadway took a second to force the grin off of his face, going for a serious look. Then he opened the door.</p><p> </p><p>Callum and Brittney jumped in their seats when Broadway walked through the door without handcuffs on his wrists.</p><p> </p><p>He sat down next to Matt and watched the color drain out of their faces.</p><p> </p><p>Callum looked between Broadway and Matt. "Let me guess," he sneered. "You were undercover."</p><p> </p><p>"How did you know who we were, where we'd be?!" Brittney, at least, was smart enough to look worried.</p><p> </p><p>Broadway shrugged. "I didn't. It was my night off. Seems like you two just picked the wrong mark."</p><p> </p><p>He grinned at their shocked expressions. They couldn't pin the blame on him, and it was their own fault. <em>They</em> had messed up. Now they had no choice but to fess up to their crimes.</p><p> </p><p>He stood up and tipped his hat to the criminal couple. "Callum, Brittney, it was awful meeting you. I hope you two get exactly what you deserve. Now, if you don't mind, it's past my bedtime." He shook Matt's hand and shot them one last grin as he left the interview room.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Broadway looked out over the city in the weak sunlight of the winter dawn. He sighed, thinking about his Night on the Town.</p><p> </p><p>It hadn't necessarily been <em>good</em>. He'd been taken hostage by a pair of criminals and forced to commit crimes with them.</p><p> </p><p>But it hadn't really been all <em>bad</em>, either.</p><p> </p><p>The food from Barbetta really <em>was</em> delicious, although in the future he'd forgo the alcohol.</p><p> </p><p>Plus the musical <em>was</em> really impressive, now that he could think back on it without the fear of being stabbed or shot distracting him.</p><p> </p><p>The dancing had been the best part. He might not go to a techno concert, or ever be able to sneak into a club again, but it was catchy music to dance to. And it was fun, <em>freeing</em>, to move to the music whatever way he wanted. Maybe he could convince the guys to listen to some CD's of it. It wouldn't be the same as dancing in a club, but it'd be fun to share it with his friends.</p><p> </p><p>And he had made it back <em>after</em> sunrise, just like he wanted. He was looking forward to being back in his gargoyle form. He'd already changed out of his human clothes. He'd hung up his trench coat and fedora, and carefully folded the borrowed suit to return to Matt for the Lost and Found later tonight. <em>After</em> getting some stone sleep.</p><p> </p><p>He reminded himself to thank Lexington once they woke up tonight. He wondered if Lex had followed him the entire night, or if he had just happened to spy him during his patrol. If there was ever a next time, he would invite Lex out on the town with him.</p><p> </p><p>He'd rather spend time with a true friend than a glamorous criminal couple any day.</p><p> </p><p>In the end, Broadway decided, it <em>had</em> been a good night after all.</p><p> </p><p>With one last inhale of cold winter air and one last glance at the winter sunshine, he stepped up onto his spot on the stone railing of the clock tower and removed his ring.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Writing these little scenes is so fun! I hope you enjoy them! (And I hope my brain keeps more of them coming!) ~Breaker</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0058"><h2>58. BONUS 3: Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Several of the gargoyles still have one more transformation left on their enchanted rings...</p><p>Goliath uses his to go on a date with Elisa.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It took Goliath weeks to find the right time to ask Elisa on a 'date.'</p><p> </p><p>The concept was still strange to him. It was a very human custom, produced by modernity. Gargoyles, at least in the Wyvern Clan, paired with one another with the intention of finding a lifelong mate. The pairing could rise from an immediate connection, or the pairing could be encouraged by clan elders, a formal courtship made, and other customs that would now be considered 'old-fashioned.'</p><p> </p><p>Goliath's pairing with Demona, all those years ago, before she became bitter and spiteful, had been an immediate connection of body, mind, and soul. A connection that eventually weakened him and allowed her to manipulate him.</p><p> </p><p>Pairing with a human, let alone <em>joining</em> with one, had never been a conceivable possibility, not until Brooklyn and Melissa had paired. Goliath had first seen the pairing as against clan tradition, against the very nature of being a gargoyle. Brooklyn had forced Goliath to see that his love for Melissa was true, and that Goliath's disapproval had to do more with himself and his own feelings for Elisa than with tradition or Brooklyn.</p><p> </p><p>Yet even after Elisa's rescue, he had hesitated. Perhaps his feelings had been so strong for Elisa because she had been in danger. As the clan leader, he was responsible for keeping his clan - and its allies - safe. His failure to keep Elisa safe was his failure as a leader. Ultimately, they had been able to rescue her, but the feelings...lingered.</p><p> </p><p>So, after constant teasing from the Trio, especially Brooklyn, he had asked Elisa on a 'date.'</p><p> </p><p>"I just want to make sure I heard you right. You'd like to go on a <em>date</em>, with <em>me</em>?" Elisa had stared up at him, eyes wide with surprise and sparkling with something he couldn't name.</p><p> </p><p>"Yes," he had mumbled, feeling awkward and avoiding her dark eyes. He held up his palm, where his transformation ring rested. "I have one last transformation remaining, and I would like to use it to go on a date with you."</p><p> </p><p>He had glanced back at her, seen the smile playing on her fangless lips. "Goliath, I'd be honored to go on a date with you."</p><p> </p><p>"Very well, then. I was told that I am responsible for planning the date."</p><p> </p><p>Elisa had chuckled, not unkindly. "How about you let me take care of that? If you're going to be human, we should take in the sights that you can't see as a gargoyle."</p><p> </p><p>They had agreed on the day. The night before, he would wait until close to dawn, then slip on the transformation ring and become human. He and Elisa would spend the day together, and he could transform back that night. <em>Or slip into stone sleep, if things do not go well,</em> he thought briefly. Elisa had sent Detective Bluestone up to the clock tower with a garment bag, the human clothing he would wear during their date.</p><p> </p><p>"You've got this, Goliath," Detective Bluestone had said, patting him on the shoulder with a smile and a wink.</p><p> </p><p>During that night's patrol, the Trio alternated between teasing him and giving him advice for what to do on his date. Rather than settling him, it made him more agitated. Even Hudson had offered some unsolicited words of wisdom on their return to the clock tower before dawn.</p><p> </p><p>Goliath had slipped the ring on before the others went into stone sleep. The transformation had been just as painful as he had remembered, but it was over quickly. He had taken both Brooklyn and Hudson's advice and used the showers on the floor just below the clock tower before the librarians arrived to open the Civic Center branch of the New York Public Library.</p><p> </p><p>In the bag Detective Bluestone has given him, Goliath found jeans, a blueish-green 'mock turtleneck' shirt with long sleeves, and a set of matching shoes and belt in black leather. Goliath draped the thick woolen overcoat, a black 'peacoat,' over his arm for the moment. It was only just becoming winter in New York City, not cold enough for snow, but not warm enough for humans without a good jacket. And, because Goliath was temporarily human, this applied to him.</p><p> </p><p>He exited the showers, almost running into Melissa, who had been waiting for him.</p><p> </p><p>"Good morning, Goliath!" She was cheery, even though by Goliath's estimation she should have been very tired. She had spent much of the night in the clock tower, not leaving until well after midnight, and now it was just barely an hour past dawn. Perhaps she had gotten used to rising early.</p><p> </p><p>"Good morning, Melissa. What are you doing here?"</p><p> </p><p>"I'm here to help with some finishing touches." She held up a canvas bag that bulged at odd angles. "Back up to the clock tower!"</p><p> </p><p>She almost pushed him up the hatch into the clock tower, getting frustrated at his reluctance. "If we don't hurry, you're going to be late!"</p><p> </p><p>Melissa had brought several styling and hygiene items. She handed him a plastic tube and instructed him to rub the chalky substance within it onto his underarms. Then she had him sit down in a chair and plugged in a hair dryer, using the noisy thing to dry his hair more quickly, brushing it out but leaving it unbound. The final trial he had to endure was to pick a cologne. She lined up eight different bottles of scented perfume, and had him smell each. They all smelled the same to him, but she insisted he choose. He finally settled on a bottle that was solid white with red lettering.</p><p> </p><p>"Old Spice it is!" She removed the bottle's gold cap, then made him walk through a misting of the cologne. He felt foolish, but she was finally satisfied. "You're ready!"</p><p> </p><p>He was about to exit the clock tower when he had a thought, turning back to Melissa. "Broadway suggested I bring flowers. Do I need to procure some before I meet Elisa?"</p><p> </p><p>She tilted her head. "Hmm, not yet. You've got cash, right?"</p><p> </p><p>He nodded, tapping his jean pocket. Detective Bluestone had provided him with a wallet and the ridiculous paper currency. He had also included an identification card with the picture of Goliath's human form, taken when they prepared for Elisa's rescue. He had mentioned something about making one for each of them, 'just in case.' Goliath remembered the detective admonishing Broadway for not asking him for money and identification before his own night out as a human.</p><p> </p><p>"Then I'd say wait and see what Elisa has planned, and if you pass by a flower shop and it feels right, stop and put together a bouquet with Elisa. Don't pay more than $15 for it, though, otherwise they're ripping you off. $15 is more than enough for a nice, big bouquet. You could easily get two dozen perfect red roses for that amount."</p><p> </p><p>"But you don't suggest bringing flowers to her now?"</p><p> </p><p>Melissa shrugged. "Elisa didn't tell me much about what she's got planned, but it seems like you guys will be out all day. Usually a bouquet is reserved for when you're going to be home soon and can put them in water. Typically you'd bring them to pick up a date at their house, or to dinner when you're planning to go home after. I wouldn't worry about bringing her anything." She smiled. "She's really excited to show you her side of the City, and if you don't go <em>now</em> then you're gong to make her wait, which is definitely <em>not</em> good for a date!"</p><p> </p><p>Goliath nodded and made his way downstairs. It was time to begin the date.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Elisa met him outside of the Civic Center.</p><p> </p><p>"Well, hello handsome!" Elisa greeted him with a smile. This smile was different from her regular smiles. But he chose not to force a special meaning on it. That would be presumptuous, which he didn’t desire to be in regards to Elisa.</p><p> </p><p>Hopeful, yes. But not presumptuous.</p><p> </p><p>"Good morning, Elisa." Goliath nodded to her with a returning smile, pulling on the peacoat against the chill air. He noticed she had forgone her usual red leather jacket for a tan peacoat, similar to his but fitting closer to her body. "What will we do first on our date?"</p><p> </p><p>"It’s a surprise, but here’s a hint: I hope you're hungry!" She linked her arm with his and led him along the sidewalk.</p><p> </p><p>They walked along the sidewalk, the dim light growing brighter as the sun rose higher. At this hour, people rushed past them, going to their various jobs. He and Elisa conversed as they walked, an island of calm in the ocean of people.</p><p> </p><p>She finally stopped in front of a small, unassuming diner. The scent of fried foods and coffee wafted through as they stepped inside, hanging their coats on hooks between the entryway door and the second door that was curiously located a few feet further inside. To keep the cold out, Elisa explained.</p><p> </p><p>Goliath nodded, but he was preoccupied. His eyes were drawn to Elisa's clothing. She wore a dress of royal blue, with long sleeves that belled close to her wrists. The dress appeared to wrap around her, tying at her waist, leaving her neck open. A golden necklace with a single pearl rested below the hollow of her throat.</p><p> </p><p>"Goliath? Is everything okay?" She smoothed her hands over her sleeves, and belatedly Goliath realized that he was staring.</p><p> </p><p>"I’m sorry, I did not mean to stare. You look lovely, Elisa." He held the odd second door open for her, and she walked inside the diner, her smile easy and bright.</p><p> </p><p>The cook called to Elisa through a small window behind a counter. "Elisa! I wondered when you'd come by to see us again! It's been a while!"</p><p> </p><p>"Marty, good to see you! How's Katie?"</p><p> </p><p>"She aced her math test! She's gonna be an engineer, mark my words!"</p><p> </p><p>Elisa waved to the cook and sat down at a booth, Goliath following her lead. The bench seats were covered in dark green leather, the white table edged in metal was slightly wobbly underneath Goliath's elbows.</p><p> </p><p>"Want to take a look?" Elisa gestured to the menus. A waitress brought two heavy mugs and poured them coffee before Goliath could answer.</p><p> </p><p>"How's things, Elisa?" The woman was older, her hair steel gray and piled in a bun on top of her head. Her smile was kind.</p><p> </p><p>Goliath half-listened to their conversation while looking at the plastic-covered menu. His attention was brought back by the older woman's ineffective whisper.</p><p> </p><p>"So, who's this tall drink of water? Is he your beau?"</p><p> </p><p>Goliath was certainly not a drinking glass, but he knew what beau implied.</p><p> </p><p>Elisa was taken by surprise, it seemed. She looked from the older woman to him, then back to the older woman. She cleared her throat.</p><p> </p><p>"Josie, this is Goliath."</p><p> </p><p>"A pleasure to meet you," Goliath nodded politely.</p><p> </p><p>"Ooo, one of those <em>stoic</em> types, I can <em>tell!</em> Well done, you." Josie winked at Elisa, and Goliath saw a pink blush the color of Scottish heather bloom on Elisa's cheeks. "What'll you two have?"</p><p> </p><p>Elisa looked at Goliath, who had forgotten the menu in front of him. She smiled in understanding. "How about two usuals?"</p><p> </p><p>"Two usuals, you got it!" Josie winked at Goliath as she walked to another booth.</p><p> </p><p>"A 'tall drink of water?'" Goliath asked, the hint of a wry smile on his face.</p><p> </p><p>"It's an expression. Don't let your coffee get cold! This place has the best coffee of any diner in the city."</p><p> </p><p>They sipped their coffee and Goliath listened as Elisa told him about the diner they sat in, its history in the city, and how she had come here on Sundays with her family for breakfast when she was younger.</p><p> </p><p>The waitress brought them two large platters piled with bacon, shredded and fried potatoes, and waffles with gooey strawberry jam and whipped cream. She refilled their coffees and left them in peace after giving both of them another wink.</p><p> </p><p>”This looks like the breakfast Broadway makes,” Goliath observed, poking at the potatoes.</p><p> </p><p>Elisa took a bottle of hot sauce and doused her potatoes and bacon with it. “Well, no offense to Broadway or anything, he has a lot of talent in the kitchen. But he’s got <em>nothing </em>on Marty!” She took a healthy forkfull of fried potatoes and took a large, eager bite.</p><p> </p><p>Goliath followed suit, eyebrows lifting in surprise at the admittedly superior taste of this breakfast to the one Broadway liked to prepare. He and Elisa continued talking as they ate, occasionally pointing out stray dots of hot sauce or whipped cream on each other’s faces. Each time they did, there was an exciting tension in the air between them, one that was only partially dispelled when their conversation continued.</p><p> </p><p>They sat in the diner and savored their breakfast, their coffee, and their conversation. Josie made sure that their cups were never empty, and Marty sent over extra strawberries for their waffles. Goliath was content to enjoy this meal with Elisa, but became worried when she asked if he was ready to leave.</p><p> </p><p>"We have to pay for our food before we leave, correct? Broadway got into quite a lot of trouble when he didn't do so on his adventure."</p><p> </p><p>"Right, Matt told me about that! What a mess he got in! At least he got to bring in those two grifters." Elisa waved her hand at Josie, who nodded and walked towards the table. Goliath reached for the wallet Matt had given him as Elisa opened her purse. They eyed each other nervously. Goliath was told that he was expected to purchase whatever was required on their date, but it appeared that Elisa had a different plan. This seemed to be a particularly uncomfortable situation.</p><p> </p><p>Josie saved them with a smile. "It's on the house, you two."</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, Josie, you guys don't have to do that!" Elisa looked at the woman, then back at the cook through his small window.</p><p> </p><p>"I won't hear of it, Elisa!" Marty shouted from the kitchen.</p><p> </p><p>Josie chuckled. "We're just tickled that you brought in a <em> beau </em> and not a <em> colleague </em> ." Josie emphasized the words and winked again. Flowers bloomed once more on Elisa's cheeks. "Now go on, I'm sure this isn't the only stop you're making on your <em> date </em>!"</p><p> </p><p>Elisa shook her head but smiled. "Alright, Josie, tell Marty thanks for me." The woman patted Elisa's shoulder tenderly and went back to waiting on tables. Elisa stood and gathered her purse, Goliath standing with her. He watched Elisa peek around him, then slip a piece of money underneath the small box of sugar packets on the table while her back was turned. "Let's get going before she notices," Elisa whispered to him, sharing a conspiratorial smile that Goliath couldn't help but mirror back.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Their next stop was the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Goliath had seen the regal statues and columns through the windows of one section, but hadn't known how large the museum was until he was able to step inside.</p><p> </p><p>They wandered through the exhibits, starting with the oldest art. Goliath recognized some of the older items, similar to pieces that he had seen, or even used, before they were cursed to sleep for one thousand years. Elisa took him through the exhibits of art on different continents, speaking about certain pieces that held significance for her mother in the cases dedicated to Western Africa, looking lovingly at pieces from Nigeria. She did the same of pieces from the native peoples who originally populated what was now Arizona, where her father was from.</p><p> </p><p>Goliath admired Elisa's knowledge of her family's history. He had been raised as a member of the Wyvern Clan, where brood-rearing was everyone's responsibility. As a hatchling, he had come to know all of the older gargoyles in his clan fondly, heeding their advice and absorbing their wisdom. Hudson's mentorship had been a special bond for Goliath, but it didn't seem to be quite the same as Elisa's bond with her parents. A communal bond was important for their clan, but once in a while Goliath became somewhat envious of humans' deeper bonds with their birth parents. He quickly reminded himself that not all humans were lucky enough to have parents like Elisa's, and that non-biological familial bonds were not exclusive to gargoyles.</p><p> </p><p>When they reached the area of medieval art, Goliath was intrigued to see that they had included the arms and armor of humans from the time as well. He told Elisa of the battles he'd seen, of the art that had decorated Castle Wyvern, and he was especially fond of the stained glass and illuminated manuscripts the museum had acquired. <em> This is how treasures are supposed to be kept, </em> Goliath thought. <em> Not locked up in personal collections like Xanatos does, but displayed for all to admire. </em> </p><p> </p><p>They both admired the contemporary art in the final part of the museum. Goliath was drawn to the soft works of Monet while Elisa preferred Van Gogh's bold strokes and textures. He was baffled by some of the 'modern art' that was on display, much to Elisa's delight.</p><p> </p><p>"This...cannot be a display," he murmured in confusion, glancing at an unplugged refrigerator, stacked paint buckets, and a small round table that appeared to have trash on it.</p><p> </p><p>Elisa laughed. "It is! This is called 'Aperto 93' by Höller. I won't say it's one of my favorite styles, but it <em> is </em> art."</p><p> </p><p>"But...there's litter on this table. This room looks unfinished. Are you sure?"</p><p> </p><p>Elisa laughed again. "It all depends on how you look at it, Goliath."</p><p> </p><p>"I suppose some people find beauty in their everyday surroundings," he mused, casting a doubtful look at the refrigerator before they exited the display.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>They had spent a long time in the museum, taking in everything they could. The sun was almost in the center of the sky, the sunshine warming them enough that they could leave their coats open. They walked on to their next destination, kept secret by Elisa, until they finally arrived at Central Park.</p><p> </p><p>He remembered the first time he had been here with Elisa. It wasn't a pleasant memory, per se. They had been chased by Xanatos' hirelings, and he had been incapacitated by a tranquilizer dart. Elisa had watched over him in his stone sleep, much to his surprise, then told him about being chased around the park by the persistent hirelings.</p><p> </p><p>This was a much more pleasant visit. They wandered along winding paths through the park, passing other strolling couples. They walked through statues of famous authors, stopping to read the plaques, and passed by a small stone house that was called the Dairy, reminding Goliath again of Scotland long ago. </p><p> </p><p>Elisa stopped at the ice skating rink, overlooked by tall Manhattan buildings and populated by people.</p><p> </p><p>"What d'you think, Goliath?" Elisa asked, tilting her head towards the rink. "Want to give it a try?"</p><p> </p><p>"I've never ice skated before," he said hesitantly.</p><p> </p><p>"I'll catch you if you fall. Come on, big guy!" And she tugged his arm as she made her way to a counter with rows of metal skates on shelves behind it.</p><p> </p><p>Goliath was too worried about the skating to object to Elisa purchasing their entrance tickets and their skate rentals.</p><p> </p><p>"Size?" A bored attendant asked Goliath.</p><p> </p><p>"Size?" Goliath asked back, confused.</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, <em> size </em>." The attendant repeated.</p><p> </p><p>"He means your shoe size, Goliath." Elisa said, a pair of skates in her hands.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm not sure."</p><p> </p><p>"You don't know your own shoe size?" The attendant asked, looking surprised.</p><p> </p><p>"Let's find out!" Elisa said, bending down and grabbing hold of his foot. "Lift!" He lifted his foot obediently, and she slipped off his shoe, looking inside. "He's a 12," she called up to the attendant, helping him slip the shoe back on.</p><p> </p><p>"12, got it." The attendant turned to search for a pair of skates in his size. "Guy doesn't even know his shoe size..."</p><p> </p><p>Elisa stood back up, brushing off her hands. "He's not used to having to tell people his shoe size," she explained lightly. She smiled at Goliath and shrugged.</p><p> </p><p>The attendant mumbled something and handed over a pair of skates that would hopefully fit Goliath's human feet.</p><p> </p><p>He and Elisa sat at benches and tied on the skates, leaving their shoes in cubbies nearby. Goliath was unsteady on the thin metal blades, his ankles wobbling.</p><p> </p><p>Elisa, however, was confident on her feet, and stepped easily onto the ice, gliding away from the entrance. "Come on, Goliath! I want to see what you've got!"</p><p> </p><p>He grunted and stepped onto the ice, one hand clutching at the wall. His feet almost slid out from under him as soon as he tried to move forward.</p><p> </p><p>He could feel his face growing hot, frustrated and embarrassed that he was having a difficult time when he could see little children in the center of the rink gliding - even spinning! - with ease.</p><p> </p><p>Elisa made her way over to him, graceful and steady. "Doing okay there?"</p><p> </p><p>"I have never been skating before," Goliath mumbled back.</p><p> </p><p>"So you mentioned. Here, take my hands." She stood in front of him, holding her hands out to him.</p><p> </p><p>He cautiously placed one hand in hers, then his other, releasing the wall in favor of trusting Elisa.</p><p> </p><p>"Good! Now, slide your right foot forward slowly, keeping your left leg steady." He followed her instructions, slowly getting used to the feeling of skating. He took longer than he would have liked to understand how to balance on the metal blades, almost falling over several times. Each time, Elisa's tight hold on him kept him upright. </p><p> </p><p>Soon, he was gliding, much to Elisa's delight.  "So, how does it compare to gliding in the air, Goliath?"</p><p> </p><p>"This is oddly enjoyable," he admitted with a smile. "Although I'm not used to having to use my legs to glide."</p><p> </p><p>It was at that moment that a group of young adults chose to race past them, as if they were sprinters, bumping into Goliath and Elisa. They both became unsteady and fell in a spectacular heap on the ice. Goliath laid on the ice for a moment, shocked, then sat up with a wince. Elisa sat up as well.</p><p> </p><p>They looked at one another, the exciting tension he had felt in the diner rising again, and instead of being angry, they both burst into laughter. Elisa was able to rise first, and helped Goliath get to his feet. They brushed themselves off, Goliath rubbing at his lower back.</p><p> </p><p>"Well, that was exciting," he said with a grin.</p><p> </p><p>"Yes it was," Elisa smiled back. "Now I'm <em> starving </em>. Let's get something to eat!"</p><p> </p><p>They retrieved their shoes and returned their skates, still laughing at their tumble on the ice.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>They visited a hot dog stand as they finished their stroll of the small section of Central Park. They had to pass several others to get to the one Elisa wanted. She greeted the vendor by name and asked after his wife, who had been ill recently.</p><p> </p><p>Goliath marveled at Elisa's ability to remember so many details and make friends so easily. Then again, she was easy to get along with, and obviously cared for others, qualities Goliath greatly admired in her.</p><p> </p><p>There had been a slight moment of unpleasant tension when Elisa paid for the hot dogs. Goliath had realized his mistake in allowing her to pay for ice skating, but was unable to address it quickly enough before she had already made the purchase.</p><p> </p><p>"Goliath, it's no big deal." She said with a shrug of her shoulder. "I'm the one who planned the date, it makes sense that I should be paying, too. Do you even have money on you?"</p><p> </p><p>Goliath held up the wallet and nodded. "Detective Bluestone made sure that I was prepared."</p><p> </p><p>"How about this: I would be more comfortable covering everything on this date, but you can get the quarters. Deal?"</p><p> </p><p>Goliath didn't understand what that phrase meant, but he was eager to contribute in some way. "Deal," he said, shaking her hand and biting into his hot dog.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Elisa led him to a bus stop, where she explained that they needed to retrieve her car for the next part of the date. "I thought about taking the bus, but it was going to be an hour trip!" She remained tight-lipped about where exactly they would be driving to.</p><p> </p><p>Goliath enjoyed the short trip in Elisa's car, listening to music from the radio and watching the city pass by. She pointed out the sights, both famous buildings and more humble ones that had personal significance to her. She pulled over sharply when she saw an open space along what appeared to be a random stretch of the road. "This is great, we got lucky! Just a quick stop for a snack!"</p><p> </p><p>They hopped out of the car, Elisa leading the way to a small bakery. She opened the door, a tinkling bell announcing their presence.</p><p> </p><p>"Ah, Elisa!" A plump woman with a thick accent came out from behind the tiny counter and embraced her. "I was hoping we would see you again soon!"</p><p> </p><p>"Hi, Mrs. Dvořák, where's Mr. Dvořák?"</p><p> </p><p>"Right here," a thin man with a grumpy expression and an equally thick called as he backed out of a door, holding a tray of hot pastries. His grumpy expression disappeared when he saw Elisa. "Beruška!"</p><p> </p><p>"Hello, Mr. Dvořák. How are you?" </p><p> </p><p>"I've told you," Mrs. Dvořák interrupted before her husband could respond, "call us Teta and Strýc!" </p><p> </p><p>"Okay, okay, I will!"</p><p> </p><p>Mr. Dvořák set the tray on the countertop, Mrs. Dvořák bustling behind him to put the pastries into a heated glass display case. He eyed Goliath suspiciously. "And who's this you've got with you?"</p><p> </p><p>"This is Goliath." She turned to Goliath and motioned to the Dvořáks. "<em> Teta </em> and <em> Strýc </em> Dvořák immigrated here a few years ago. I met them while I was on neighborhood patrol, and I've been hooked on their pastries ever since." She emphasized the words with a smile at the Dvořáks, who grinned happily back. "Do you have any trdelník today, Strýc Dvořák?" </p><p> </p><p>"For you, beruška, anything," the man replied with a smile that made his wrinkled face beam. He went into the back and brought out a small machine on a wheeled cart, plugging it in next to one of the two tables inside of the small bakery.</p><p> </p><p>He went back into the kitchen as the machine warmed up, heating coils underneath an open space that had small wheels on either side. The woman, Teta Dvořák, brought out cups of steaming hot chocolate and sat with them at the table. Elisa asked her questions about their lives in the Czech Republic, and Teta Dvořák launched into tales of antics in their town outside of Prague. </p><p> </p><p>Strýc Dvořák came back from the kitchen with two large metal bowls. From one bowl he pulled pieces off of a ball of dough, scented with cinnamon. He rolled and stretched the pieces, then took a wood and metal dowel from a shelf underneath the cart and wrapped the dough around it, setting it on the machine to roll and cook. Teta Dvořák continued her stories, occasionally calling to her husband for the odd forgotten detail. The characters from her town came to life in her stories, and even though Goliath couldn't understand half of the words she used, he was enraptured by her storytelling.</p><p> </p><p>Once the dough was baked to a flaky consistency, Strýc Dvořák carefully removed the dowels, sliding the pastries off of them. He sprinkled each pastry with a generous amount of sugar, cinnamon, and walnuts from the second bowl, the smell filling the small room.</p><p> </p><p>"Prosím, prosím!" Teta Dvořák urged, gesturing to the rolled pastries. Elisa chose one of the pastries and bit into it, humming her approval. Goliath did the same, sugar and walnuts falling onto his chin and shirt. The older couple chuckled and Teta Dvořák dabbed at his chin with a napkin, like he had seen older human women do to children. He blushed, at once embarrassed and endeared by her warm gesture.</p><p> </p><p>When the trdelníks were all gone and their mugs of hot chocolate were empty, the couple started cleaning up and shooing them out the door. "Continue on your stroll, berušky," Teta Dvořák said with one of her beaming smiles. Elisa and Goliath waved goodby to Teta and Strýc Dvořák. They heard Teta Dvořák say "Je hezký!" followed by a non-committal grunt from Strýc Dvořák. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>They returned to her car and continued driving, arriving at Coney Island just as the sunlight was turning golden. He and Elisa made their way down the boardwalk through crowds of tourists and locals alike until they arrived at an arcade. She led him inside to a metal box that had the word "CHANGE" in large black letters on it.</p><p> </p><p>"So, let's see what Matt got you," Elisa said, gesturing to Goliath's hips. He looked down and back at her, confused, until she clarified. "You agreed you'd get the quarters, remember?"</p><p> </p><p>"Ah, yes." He pulled the wallet out of his pocket and unfolded it, holding it so that Elisa could look inside. She selected a bill and placed it in the machine, then quickly put her hands below an opening, catching a pile of coins that the machine had started pouring. He quickly helped her catch the coins, stooping to pick up ones that had fallen and rolled away. "So this is what you meant by 'getting the quarters?'"</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, come on! I'm ready to beat you at skeeball."</p><p> </p><p>She showed him a variety of games, both physical and electronic, that they placed quarters into to play. Skeeball involved a set of wooden spheres, rolled up a short ramp that turned up at the end, trying to make each sphere land in openings that were marked with points. Elisa won the first round, proudly picking up the long strip of segmented paper that the machine spat out after all their spheres were used. "We'll use these later," she said with a grin. "So that's 1 to 0. You pick the next game!"</p><p> </p><p>They wandered through the arcade, playing the silly games and competing for who would win the most games. Goliath gave Elisa all of his paper 'tickets,' focused on the games instead of the winnings. He was able to best her at the basketball game and milk bottles, but she won the ring toss. They both won a round of an electric motorcycle racing game. Goliath stopped at a machine that looked to be filled with small plush toys.</p><p> </p><p>"That's a claw machine, they're tricky," Elisa said with a grin.</p><p> </p><p>"Challenge accepted," Goliath said, depositing a quarter. He spent many quarters after that first one, trying to make the metal claw pluck out a toy rabbit. He failed miserably, a deep frown on his face after his fifth attempt.</p><p> </p><p>"Here, let me show you how it's done," Elisa said with a coy smile, gently bumping him out of the way with her hip. That exciting tension had been rising subtly as they had competed, and her contact with him made the tension grow exponentially. It only took Elisa one try to successfully remove the toy rabbit from the machine. On another night, Goliath may have been chagrined, but tonight, their 'date' night, he smiled at her with honest pride.</p><p> </p><p>"It seems I have a lot to learn about the claw machine," he said as she handed him the toy. He looked at it, then handed it back to her. "I wanted to try to retrieve it for you, you should have it."</p><p> </p><p>"Thanks, Goliath, that's really sweet," she said shyly, the rabbit in one hand, strips of tickets in the other. "Looks like the sun's about to go down. What do you say to cashing out these tickets?"</p><p> </p><p>At the counter, another bored attendant took the long strips of tickets and exchanged them for many 'glow stick' necklaces in foil packets. "I'll give them to the others. I think the Trio would have a fun time with them," she said, depositing the necklaces in her purse. She held the toy rabbit in the crook of one arm as she linked her other arm with his.</p><p> </p><p>They stepped outside, the sun sinking behind the buildings, and walked further towards the end of the pier, observing others and chatting. Goliath heard music and spied a carousel inside of a building, and asked Elisa if she would like to go on it.</p><p> </p><p>They chose 'mounts' that were side-by-side. The carousel started to spin, and within a few minutes Goliath wondered why, <em> why </em> had he suggested going on this spinning contraption. The up-and-down motion of his too-small plastic horse, combined with the spinning of the carousel, made him queasy, a new feeling for him. He could spin like a top while diving straight for the ground without getting dizzy, but slowly circling while riding on a plastic horse made him nauseous. Elisa enjoyed the ride, laughing when she saw Goliath's less-than-delighted face. He was thankful when the ride stopped, only to stumble a little as his body felt like it was still moving.</p><p> </p><p>Elisa led him out of the carousel's housing and down to the end of the pier. The sun had fully set, and there was a crowd gathered.</p><p> </p><p>"Are we waiting for something?" Goliath asked, noting that the others were looking up into the sky.</p><p> </p><p>Elisa looked at her watch. "The show should start any second."</p><p> </p><p>He heard a loud whistle, followed by an explosion of sound and light. The light was golden and sprouted from some unseen point in the sky, arching outward like tiny, sparkling waterfalls. Goliath had flinched at the sound, reminded of the Steel Clan's missiles, but eased when he saw Elisa staring up in wonder.</p><p> </p><p>He glanced occasionally at the fireworks, but he watched Elisa. He saw her excited expression change with each new firework, delighted at every new boom and crackle. He watched the light play along her skin, shining gold, then white, then red, then many colors.</p><p> </p><p>He had seen Elisa's gargoyle form once, when they had been cursed by Puck. He had never noticed how beautiful she was until she was briefly a gargoyle.</p><p> </p><p>Now he saw how beautiful she was. As a human. As herself. </p><p> </p><p>He was still looking at her when the fireworks ended. She looked up at him, smiling. "So, what did you think of the fireworks?"</p><p> </p><p>"Beautiful," he said. He was not talking about the fireworks.</p><p> </p><p>She stared into his eyes, then glanced away with a shy smile. "We've got one more stop, if you're up for it."</p><p> </p><p>"Will I get to know what the stop will be?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yes, actually. I'm inviting you to dinner with my parents." He felt her arm tighten around his, realizing she was nervous for his answer.</p><p> </p><p>"It would be an honor to meet them," he said, placing his hand over hers.</p><p> </p><p>Her smile grew as she turned back to him. "I was hoping you'd say yes!"</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Goliath insisted that he bring flowers. Elisa stopped at a florist shop she knew would be open, leading him into a room filled with bright, colorful flowers.</p><p> </p><p>"These bouquets are nice," she said, motioning to one side of the shop.</p><p> </p><p>Goliath shook his head. "We should bring flowers that are special to your parents. Will you help me make a bouquet?"</p><p> </p><p>She beamed. His heart soared whenever she smiled like that. It soared even higher when he realized that he was the one who was making her smile.</p><p> </p><p>They made a bouquet of sunflowers, irises, and fern leaves. Goliath paid for the bouquet (it was well under $15, sure he was making Melissa proud) and held it as Elisa drove up to her parent's apartment building.</p><p> </p><p>The door to the apartment opened on the first knock.</p><p> </p><p>"You made it!" Her mother pulled Elisa into a warm embrace. Her short dark hair was perfectly styled, and her golden earrings shone in the light. She wore a dress of deep purple, the color enhancing the golden undertones of her deep tan skin. "And you must be Goliath. We've heard so much about you!" </p><p> </p><p>Goliath offered the bouquet to Elisa's mother with a slight bow. "It's a pleasure meeting you, Mrs. Maza."</p><p> </p><p>Her mother took the bouquet, then pulled him into a tight hug. "Don't be silly with all those formalities, you're practically family!"</p><p> </p><p>Goliath was thrown off by her embrace, and saw Elisa stifle a laugh from over her mother's shoulder as she removed her coat and hung it on a hook near the door.</p><p> </p><p>Elisa's mother released him and waved for them to follow her. "I'll put these in water, you two sit down. Dinner's hot and ready! And Goliath, promise you'll call me Diane, alright?"</p><p> </p><p>"As you wish, Mrs...I mean, Diane." Elisa's mother gave him a short nod and disappeared into the kitchen. Elisa gave him a small smile of sympathy as he hung his coat next to hers.</p><p> </p><p>Elisa led Goliath to a dining room, warm with decorations that were similar to the art pieces they had seen in the museum earlier that day. Candles were lit on the table, and wine was already poured and waiting.</p><p> </p><p>Elisa's father sat at the head of the table, rising to embrace Elisa when they entered the dining room. "You got here just in time," he said, affection in his voice and smile. "Your mother wanted to start eating without you, but I insisted that we wait."</p><p> </p><p>"That's not true!" Diane called from the kitchen indignantly. "Your <em> father </em> is the one who was being impatient!"</p><p> </p><p>Her father winced in jest. "Never could pull one over on her," he whispered to Elisa with a wink. She stifled another laugh as she heard her mother's harumph.</p><p> </p><p>His smile dropped as he turned to Goliath, extending his hand. "Goliath? I'm former Detective Maza." Goliath shook his hand firmly, surprised at Elisa's father's grip. "I like to think of myself as the original, but I retired from the 23rd a while ago. Guess that makes me 'Mr. Maza' instead."</p><p> </p><p>"It's an honor to meet you, Mr. Maza." Goliath's tone was solemn and respectful, but he knew he was gambling on which name her father would prefer.</p><p> </p><p>Elisa's father nodded his head slightly, and Goliath let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Elisa, why don't you help your mother bring the food out to the table."</p><p> </p><p>"I don't think so, dad." Elisa crossed her arms. "I know what you're trying to do."</p><p> </p><p>"'Do?' I'm not trying to 'do' anything!" Mr. Maza's attempt to look innocent was not successful.</p><p> </p><p>Diane walked in from the kitchen, carrying serving utensils in one hand and a bowl covered with a linen in the other. "Don't you dare pull that stunt, Peter Maza! You've scared off enough of Beth's dates for <em> all </em> of us to see the signs, don't you dare do the same to your eldest!"</p><p> </p><p>"Is it so wrong for a father to look after his daughter?" Mr. Maza answered, shrugging.</p><p> </p><p>"It is when that daughter is more than capable of looking out for herself," Diane said, waving a serving spoon to emphasize her point. "<em> Goliath </em>, would you be a dear and help me bring the food to the table?"</p><p> </p><p>"Of course," he said, pushing his sleeves towards his elbows.</p><p> </p><p>He helped carry a large pot to the table while Diane brought out a basket of warm rolls. Everyone took their seats, passing their bowls around the table as Mr. Maza portioned out rice from the linen-covered bowl and Diane ladled out large helpings of a red-colored stew that smelled of tomatoes and spices.</p><p> </p><p>Goliath reached for his fork but stopped when he saw that none of the other's had. Instead, they had joined hands. Elisa and her mother each held out a hand to him, waiting. Confused, he took their hands.</p><p> </p><p>"Let us pray," Mr. Maza began, bowing his head. Mr. Maza prayed his thanks for the food, the family, and even for 'those who join us at our table tonight.' Goliath bowed his head respectfully, feeling Elisa's hand tighten on his briefly. "Amen. Now, let's <em> eat! </em>"</p><p> </p><p>The stew was delicious. "It's an old, old, <em> old </em> family recipe," Diane said proudly. "But I put my own spin on it, of course!"</p><p> </p><p>The table conversation started off awkwardly, choppy as Elisa's parents got a feel for Goliath. Diane had already warmed to him, but Mr. Maza was more cautious. He began asking Goliath about 'what he did for a living.'</p><p> </p><p>Elisa came to Goliath's rescue. "That's kinda classified, dad, but he's helped out the precinct on a lot of cases."</p><p> </p><p>Mr. Maza raised an eyebrow. "'Classified,' huh? It's not anything shady, like the Dracons, is it?"</p><p> </p><p>Goliath glowered. "I have met Tony Dracon. It was a very unpleasant encounter for him."</p><p> </p><p>Mr. Maza studied Goliath, then snapped his fingers. "Were you one of the ones that helped get that miscreant arrested?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yes, myself and some close friends." Mr. Maza began grilling Goliath for details. He did his best to describe what happened in a way that seemed close to what a human would be capable of, with Elisa offering alternative explanations for the parts that he hesitated on.</p><p> </p><p>Then he asked Mr. Maza about his time as a detective in the 23rd precinct, and listened intently to his stories, asking questions, glowering at the details of the crimes Mr. Maza had seen, then showing grim satisfaction when they were solved and the offenders were brought to justice.</p><p> </p><p>It was late into the evening when Elisa and Goliath made their goodbyes.</p><p> </p><p>"It was so nice to <em> finally </em> meet you, Goliath!" Diane said with a final hug.</p><p> </p><p>"Good to meet you, Goliath." Mr. Maza said, an arm around his wife's shoulders.</p><p> </p><p>"The honor was mine, Diane, Mr. Maza."</p><p> </p><p>Mr. Maza held his hand out to Goliath. "Call me Peter."</p><p> </p><p>Goliath shook his hand firmly. "Pleasure meeting you, Peter."</p><p> </p><p>Elisa hugged and kissed her parents, promising to call them about dinner on another night.</p><p> </p><p>Elisa's parents closed the door, and as she and Goliath descended the apartment building's stairs, the exciting tension that had been underlying the evening rose again. The unsolicited advice from the others swirled in his head. "Just kiss her!" "No, you gotta <em> romance </em> her!" "Be a gentleman about it, lad."</p><p> </p><p>Brooklyn's advice stood out from the others': "Try to figure out how she's feeling, and if you can't then just ask. And if you fuck up, say sorry and mean it. That's what I've learned from Melissa."</p><p> </p><p><em>Does Elisa feel the same way that I do?</em> Goliath wondered. She had agreed to go on the date with him, to take one of her few days off and spend time with him rather than other friends or her family. She had planned an entire day, eagerly introduced her side of the city to him. He had met her parents, which he understood to be a very significant event for most humans.</p><p> </p><p>But he still wasn't sure.</p><p> </p><p>They got into Elisa's car. She checked her wristwatch and frowned. "Darn! I was going to suggest another surprise to end on, but it's pretty late..."</p><p><br/>"I would like to spend more time with you, Elisa," Goliath replied, hopeful that he didn't seem too overeager. He didn't want to overwhelm her, but he was sincere.</p><p> </p><p>She smiled and started the car.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>They stood on the top deck of the Staten Island Ferry. The chilly night air meant they were the only ones on the exposed deck, while other passengers waited in the somewhat warmer middle deck. Goliath and Elisa watched the city lights drift by as the ferry made its way across the water. The sound of the waves and the ferry's engine drowned out the noise of traffic, creating a temporary sort of calm. Steam rose from the hot chocolate in the paper cups in their hands. It was nowhere near as good as Teta Dvořák's, but it helped warm their hands as they stood together, looking out over the city.</p><p> </p><p>"So, did you have fun on our date, Goliath?" Elisa asked, almost timidly.</p><p> </p><p>"I had a wonderful time, Elisa. I enjoyed seeing your side of the city, not just a human's perspective of it. You know so many people, and they all care about you very much. And I enjoyed those tube pastries."</p><p> </p><p>"The trdelník? I'm glad you liked it!" Elisa laughed. "What was your favorite part? Other than the trdelník, of course."</p><p> </p><p>Goliath thought about all the people they had met, the food they had eaten together, the sights they had seen. He thought of how they had tumbled onto one another in the ice skating rink, how they had competed in the arcade, how Elisa's face looked in the light of the fireworks.</p><p> </p><p>"My favorite part was spending the day with you, Elisa."</p><p> </p><p>Elisa's eyes grew soft and her smile beamed like sunshine. "I liked spending time with you, too, Goliath."</p><p> </p><p>They stood close enough for their shoulders to touch, but Goliath wanted to hold her, if he could. He didn't know if she wanted that, though. So he took Brooklyn's advice.</p><p> </p><p>"Elisa?" He cleared his throat, suddenly nervous. "Could...or, may I...put my arm around you? If you'd like. If you're cold."</p><p> </p><p>In response, she leaned into his side, his arm naturally resting around her shoulder. He felt her body pressed to his side and felt warm, like he was standing in the center of the sun, yet not burning.</p><p> </p><p>He thought the exciting tension would ease with this contact, but it rose with the increasingly colder breeze around them. Another piece of advice from Brooklyn, asked when it was just the two of them, drifted through his mind.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>"What do you mean, 'how do you kiss her?!'" Brooklyn shook his head in disbelief. "You just...kiss her!"</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>"But she has no fangs," Goliath had insisted. "Won't that make things difficult?"</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>"Don't whine to ME about 'difficult!' I HAVE A BEAK, GOLIATH." He gestured impatiently at his face. "I don't even really have 'lips' like you and the rest of the guys, but Melissa and I figured out a way to make it work."</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>That had made Goliath a little embarrassed for his carelessness. He had never had to think about how to show affection to a partner when beaks were involved, overlooking the struggle Brooklyn and Melissa must have faced when they first paired.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Brooklyn shook his head and sighed. "You're nervous. I get it, I was too. Melissa took the lead on a lot of things with us. You've got the advantage of having a close-to-human face, though. And you've kissed, uh, someone with the same mouth, before. Fangs didn't seem to get in your way back then. Feel out the moment, see if she feels the same, and if she's up for it and it feels right, just...kiss her. You'll be fine."</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Just the thought of kissing Elisa had made his head spin. In confusion or in affection, Goliath was unsure.</p><p> </p><p>But he knew he wanted to kiss her.</p><p> </p><p>"Elisa..."</p><p> </p><p>She turned to him, more of her body pressing against his side in the cold night that felt anything but cold to Goliath. Her head tilted up, and her eyes searched his.</p><p> </p><p>And he could tell, even without asking, how she felt about him.</p><p> </p><p>It was the same way that he felt about her.</p><p> </p><p>Caring. Compassion. Respect.</p><p> </p><p>Love.</p><p> </p><p>He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, and she returned his kiss, her hand coming to rest on the back of his neck.</p><p> </p><p>It wasn't until the ferry jolted to a stop ten minutes later that they broke apart, each breathless, color on their cheeks from the cold and from each other.</p><p> </p><p>They walked down to Elisa's car, holding hands, fingers interlaced.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>She had dropped him off at the Civic Center, parking in the underground garage so she could exit the car for one last kiss before their night ended.</p><p> </p><p>He watched her car drive away as he waited for the elevator, humming to himself. He hummed when he was happy.</p><p> </p><p>Which the others knew very well, and were waiting for when he entered the clocktower's main room.</p><p> </p><p>"How'd it go, lad? Seems it went well, by the state of ye'." Hudson said with a grin.</p><p> </p><p>"Yes, Hudson, it went well. Very well."</p><p> </p><p>Brooklyn elbowed him in the side. "Did my advice pay off, then?" Goliath's mouth quirked up in a wry smirk, and Brooklyn whistled. "I'll take that as a yes!"</p><p> </p><p>"'Bout time!" Broadway said decisively. "You two have been a 'will they, won't they' soap opera for way too long."</p><p> </p><p>"First Brooklyn, now Goliath...Which of us do you think is going to get paired with a human next?" Lexington teased, grinning mischievously at both Goliath and Brooklyn.</p><p> </p><p>"'<em>First</em> Brooklyn?' I've known Elisa far longer than Brooklyn's known Melissa." Goliath said archly, removing the human clothes he was wearing and folding them up neatly.</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, but Brooklyn and Melissa got things going way before you and Elisa did," Broadway pointed out with a smirk.</p><p> </p><p>"We had a whole fight about it, remember, Goliath?" Brooklyn quipped. "You punched me, twice, while I had to make you come to your sense about your feelings for Elisa? You're welcome, by the way!"<br/><br/></p><p>Goliath laughed and shook his head. "Yes, I remember. Fine. Nothing any of you says can sour my mood." He looked down at the ring on his finger. "Today I went on a very good date with a woman I care for very much, who seems to care for me in return."</p><p> </p><p>"We're happy for ye', Goliath," Hudson said with a smile, patting Goliath's shoulder. "It's almost time for our second round of patrol. Are ye' interested, or do you want to stay human for a while longer."</p><p> </p><p>Goliath took a deep breath and removed the ring. The transformation was blessedly brief, and not nearly as painful as it had been in the past.</p><p> </p><p>But perhaps that was because he was in love, and love dulls many pains.</p><p> </p><p>He shook out his wings, flexing his arms and his tail. "I am eager to soar above the city. Dates are fun, but we must still protect our home."</p><p> </p><p>The others smiled at him, nodding their heads, and walked out to the clocktower balcony.</p><p> </p><p>Hudson grabbed Goliath's shoulder, holding him back.</p><p> </p><p>"Goliath, a word."</p><p> </p><p>"Yes, Hudson? What is it?"</p><p> </p><p>Hudson looked him up and down. "You say you care for Elisa. But I know you, lad. The last time you cared for a woman, she turned around and betrayed our clan. Are you sure you're ready to open your heart to another?"</p><p> </p><p>Goliath glanced through the doorway to the balcony, able to see the faintest hint of city lights behind it. He thought about the city, about the clocktower, about Elisa, and nodded his head.</p><p> </p><p>"I am ready. But even if I wasn't, it's too late for me, Hudson. I think I loved her from the moment I saw her."</p><p> </p><p>Hudson nodded and grinned, patting Goliath on the back. "Ah, to be young and in love. Go on, lad, stretch your wings."</p><p> </p><p>Goliath smiled, walking up the stone steps, and wondering what it would be like to kiss Elisa in his gargoyle form.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yes, I know they don't kiss until MUCH later in the series. JUST LET THEM GO ON A CUTE DATE, OKAY?! ;) ~BB</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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